Emerald II: Ivorwen
by ShilohPR
Summary: Sequal to Emerald; The ring has begun its journey with the fellowship, as has Emerald with her own fellowship. One is trying to save the world, the other to figure it out . . . but the Valar are meddlesome and wove these threads long ago.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This story is BOOK TWO in a trilogy, the first book being Emerald (you can find it under my author profile). Please read that (and review!!) that story before reading this. Also, as always, PLEASE review, even if it's just to say you want to see me. It's rather disheartening if I don't think anyone is reading, and when I don't get reviews, I tend to go a long time before updating again. Thanks and enjoy!

* * *

**Emerald Book II: Ivorwen  
Chapter One**

Svea draped herself across the sand, spreading her arms and legs as far from her body as she could manage. The sun was still close to directly overhead, casting down a warmth that Svea's skin soaked up with zeal. It wasn't often she was given even an hour alone. She loved the Princess Emerald, cherished every freckle on the little imp's dimpled cheeks. But truly, the royal daughter had gone from being the world's sweetest, happiest baby, to the most mischievous, over-inquisitive child. One couldn't turn their back on her for a moment or she would be balancing on top of a bookcase or leaning out a window or edging closer and closer to the fire. Just recently turned three, she had left her "no" stage (well, _somewhat_) for her "why" stage. Everything was "Why? Why? Why?" It was likely to drive anyone in the kingdom mad. Even the ever-patient King Orwig, who doted on his only daughter with a tenderness few knew he possessed, could lately only be in her presence for so long before answering huffily, "Because I said so!" and storming off.

But for the afternoon, Queen Lilwen had taken Emerald with her to Lond Daer to see the gardens. They were beautiful at this time of year, a never-ending maze of pinks and oranges and buttercup yellows. Still, instead of tagging along, Svea had relished the thought of an afternoon on her own, basking in the warm glow of the sun on the beach.

She remembered the first time she had seen the seashore, that first venture from the glowing woods of Lothlorien. She had been with several of her closest maidenfriends and off they had snuck early one morning to gallivant around the countryside without a chaperone. After wandering for several days without the faintest notion of where they were going, there had been the ocean, a glittering blue expanse stretching further than even their Elvish eyes could reach. White clouds had ambled lazily across the sky, casting their shadows across two fishing boats that were just pulling into a dock not far down the beach near a cluster of small houses and shops.

Svealora had glanced at the water, at the clouds, at the fishermen and their tiny village, and a tugging at her mind told her in that very moment she would never set foot in Lothlorien again. And when a thing tugged at her mind, it was never wrong.

"Every time I see you, it as though you have lost more and more of your Elvish blood," a voice mused close at hand. Svea's eyes darted open at the impossibly familiar voice, and her smile outshone the sun as she slowly pulled herself to her feet. "Did you not hear me approaching? I don't exactly walk silently nowadays . . ."

"No, I should think you don't! Valar keep you, what are you doing here? And in your condition!"

Ivorwen smiled and took Svea's hands in her own, explaining, "Well I am not in such a bad state. I suppose this has been more of an Elvish pregnancy than a man pregnancy; we were curious which it would be, weren't we? But I feel fine." Svea dropped her hands to tenderly touch the bulge in Ivorwen's dress. For a moment, her brain skipped back to that beach, those fishermen, her own pregnancy . . . but Ivorwen was here!

"But you didn't answer my question. What are you doing here? I would expect that husband of yours to have you holed up—"

"Perhaps if it were a son, I would be so," Ivorwen laughed. "You know how men are with their heirs. But no, this is a girl."

"You are sure of it?"

"As sure as you were of me."

"Well then the Valar help you. You were an awful child."

"I wasn't!" Ivorwen laughed. Carefully she lowered herself to the sand and didn't complain when Svea unlaced her boots so that she could her toes through the warm grains.

"No, not compared to the little princess I care for now, you were an angel. But first, for how long are you here?"

"Not long. I'm very close, you know, but when I learned Dirhael meant to pay a visit here to King Orwig I insisted I come."

"Ah, he still hasn't learned to tell you no, then?"

Ivorwen laughed, "Of course not! Now come, tell me of this little princess while I warm myself. I feel as though I have been frozen these past few years . . ." For though Ivorwen herself had been raised in the humid sunshine of Gondor in the South, she had married Dirhael, one of the Northmen, and so lived with he and his people far north in Arnor. She loved him, and she had adapted, but how she missed running through the surf with her mother and prying the hot sand out from between her toes.

When, hours later, Svea took her daughter's arm and led her back up the shore, they found the palace in a state of madness. The royal sons had gone off hunting in the afternoon but it seemed a warg had gotten the better of little Hergest and Tegryn, and in saving them Beven had been equally injured. The queen had returned from an already upsetting afternoon in which she almost misplaced dear Princess Emerald only to find three of her sons injured and her other two fighting loudly over whose fault it was and her husband nowhere to be found, having locked himself up with Dirhael and several other men to basically drink and play cards.

"Milady," Svea began, rushing up to the Queen lest she rip out her shiny black locks from the root.

Queen Lilwen sighed, "Svea! Emerald, take her. Don't let her out of your sight! And these . . . do _something_ with these—put them in my room. I must see to my sons . . ." and off she ran in a flurry of black curls and blue skirts.

"Why is Mama sad?" Emerald asked as soon as Lilwen had vanished from sight. Without even waiting for an answer, however, she continued, "Why are your cheeks red, Svea? Why are you so big, lady?"

"I am going to have a baby," Ivorwen replied with a tender smile, looking down in the curious green eyes. "A little one, just like you."

"Just like me? Can I play with her?"

"Come, Emerald, you can play with both of us now. Maybe when her baby is older, you will play with her. But first, let's get you cleaned up. Why are you all wet?" Because Svea's arms were full with the sword and book that Queen Lilwen had thrust into them, Emerald took Ivorwen's hand, too young and exuberant to feel any sense of unfamiliarity.

"You are very pretty," Emerald told her, staring at her face as they walked. Occasionally, she tripped on slightly raised stones, due to her not watching where she stepped. Emerald was an adored princess, though, and had learned that even if she fell, she would be so praised and loved on that it really was quite worth it.

Ivorwen laughed, "Thank you, Princess. You're very beautiful yourself." To Svea, she commented, "She's quite chatty, isn't she?"

"Oh, this is her being shy, even. There doesn't have to be anyone in the room. When you put her down to sleep, she just lays in the dark, talking and singing to herself for the longest time. She really is a funny child."

"I was in a boat."

"Oh, you were?" They reached the wing and Svea called the maids to draw a bath. She slipped Emerald into the warm water while Ivorwen perched on a stool nearby, watching her mother with her new little ward. Svea had been a good mother to her. Yes, there had been some trials, but no one could ever accuse Svea of not being a good mother, and she hoped someday Emerald would realize how lucky she had been in her nurse.

"I was in a boat!" Emerald suddenly shrieked. Svea and Ivorwen both  startled and Ivorwen laughed that such a loud noise should come from such a little girl.

Svea scolded, "Well all right, but there's no need to yell about it." She grabbed a towel from the shelf and pulled Emerald out, then wrapped her up tightly and carried her into the bedroom. Ivorwen followed, nodding at the maids as they came to empty the tub. Emerald repeated again and again that she had been in a boat as Svea dressed her in a pale blue playdress and brushed the tangles from her red mane.

Finally, with a very dramatic sigh, Emerald asked, "Why was Emmy in a boat?"

"Mother, she's about the funniest child I ever saw!" Ivorwen laughed hysterically. Taking the hint, she asked the little girl, "Why _was_ Emmy in a boat?"

"They gave me a flower. It was yellow," Emerald answered. "Mama, um, forgot it."

"Who gave you a flower?" Svea asked, clearly seeing nothing much in the story. They had, after all, gone to Lond Daer to see the gardens, and at this time of year probably _had_ run in to other people. The least someone would have done was pick a yellow flower as a present for the princess.

"Vána and Romy. It was yellow."

"That was very nice of Vána and—Emerald! Who gave you the flower?"

Emerald gave a disgruntled huff, not appreciating her nurse's inability to listen. Secretly, she blamed this new lady who clearly stole some of the attention away from her. "Vána and Romy!"

Ivorwen's eyes widened as she pressed to Svea, "She couldn't possibly mean . . ."

"Emerald," Svea said, now fully listening to every single sound Emerald made. She looked the child straight in the face and asked slowly, "Did these people tell you their names?"

"Yes, and they took me in the boat and gave me a flower. Mama cried so they went in the water and took me back."

"And what did they tell you their names were?"

"Vána and Romy!" Emerald yelled, then laid back on the bed to show she was finished with this conversation. If the adults weren't going to listen to her she didn't want to talk to them anyways.

Ivorwen and Svea, however, were dumbstruck by this information. Surely the child was mistaken, though it seemed pretty clear by her lack of presentation that she wasn't _lying_. She seemed completely unaware that the names should ring any bells; to her, it seemed, being in a boat was the most important part of the story.

Shaking her head, Ivorwen insisted, "She must have heard wrong. Surely she can't mean . . . I mean, it's not possible. . . is it?"

"What need would two _Valar_ have of taking a small child for a boat ride?" Svea agreed. "But then, we of all people know not to question the Valar and their ways."

"Yes, but having feelings and dreams are far different than the Valar actually paying you a visit at the age of three! The Valar haven't appeared to anyone in physical form in hundreds of years, have they?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But . . . Emerald, when you say Romy, do you mean Oromë?"

"Romy!" Emerald nodded, halfway off the bed. She was bored. She had told her story and now she wanted to play.

"This is impossible, Mother."

"'Impossible' is merely a challenge to the Valar," Svea shook her head. "I just . . . Emerald tells stories, but that she should know those names . . . And she never lies, she just has a tendency to exaggerate a bit . . . But this doesn't appear to be one of her stories."

Emerald had recognized the sword and book left on a chair by the door. She ran over to these while the women talked and began tugging at the handle of the sword, wanting to see it glisten again the way it had in the boat. It was heavy and cumbersome, though; far too so for the delicate hands of a small girl. She managed only in yanking it off the chair where, even wrapped as it was in a cloak, the sound of shattering glass echoed around the room.

"Emerald!"

"I sorry! I did not mean to!" Emerald yelped, leaping away and covering her eyes as though this took all the blame off her. Svea rushed to her side and began turning her arms and legs over, looking for cuts of any kind. Ivorwen, meanwhile, pulled the cloak up, allowing the pieces of sword to clatter loudly to the ground again.

"Ivorwen!" Svea chided, then added, "Emerald!" Lilwen had meant it when she had instructed Svea no to let her out of her sight; apparently the girl was into everything today.

Ivorwen, however, ignored her mother's scolding and instead asked, "Do you remember, mother, the sword that they had in the palace in Minis Tirith? The broken sword, you remember?"

"The sword of Isildur?"

"I saw that sword every time we visited the palace," Ivorwen continued. "Right in the entrance hall as it was . . . now tell me, Mother, is this not it?" Svea pulled Emerald onto her hip as the only way to detain the child and, standing beside Ivorwen, looked down. The sword had broken and landed exactly as it was displayed in the capitol city of Gondor, only here on the bedroom floor.

"Impossible . . ."

"And what sort of sword shatters upon being knocked off a chair?"

"But . . ."

"I think Emerald is telling the absolute truth," Ivorwen stated, turning to face the little girl. Emerald's face lit up at her name and she gave Ivorwen a giant smile, though she was too busy staring longingly out the window to hear what they were saying.

Svea frowned, "I think so, too. But I'm terrified to know why the Valar are appearing at all."

"And why they are bringing swords to children."

"What of that book?" Svea asked, motioning to the remaining object on the chair. Ivorwen pulled it up and propped it open on her belly. Every page was blank, though. "Apparently it's not for us to read."

"Put me _down_!"

"Emerald, did those people say anything else to you?"

"No. Put me down!" Svea sighed and did so.

Ivorwen shook her head, "I just don't—well, I suppose we aren't _supposed_ to understand, are we?"

"Do you still have your dreams?" Svea asked, taking the book from Ivorwen and setting it back on the chair.

"Occasionally, though not very often. Does . . . does Emerald have dreams, do you think?"

"I don't know that she would be able to articulate them if she did. But perhaps I will begin asking her—"

"And write down what she says. I've been writing all mine down, like you taught me. Nothing of significance lately, though."

"Yes, well—oh! Emerald, don't play with that," Svea gasped, yanking Emerald up by the arm. "I'm afraid this all has my brain so fuddled I'm not paying any attention too—oh!" Emerald begin to cry, but Ivorwen and Svea stared silently down at the now-complete sword, which Emerald had pieced together as though it were a puzzle. Her fingers were not cut, and indeed the edges seemed dulled as though it had not just recently been broken, but had been so hundreds of years before.

"Well if that's not a sign, I'm not sure what is," Ivorwen mused.

"An evil omen, more than likely. Oh, don't cry, Emmy. Come, let's go play outside, away from these things. You're just a little girl. The Valar can't take you from me yet!" She put Emerald down just long enough to gather up the pieces of the sword and bundle them back up in the cloak. Perched atop the book on the chair, the sword 's presence still dominated the room in its forebodingness. It was just a sword, most likely _not_ Narsil stolen from Gondor. And yet Emerald's meeting with the Valar was impossible to explain away, and Svea and her daughter both were the last ones in Arda who could deny the interference of the Valar with their everyday lives.

Ivorwen cast one more glance at the bundled sword, then followed her mother and the little princess out of doors, her child kicking against her ribs.


	2. Chapter 2

The Fellowship of the Ring and Emerald's little party were both experiencing quite similar interpersonal conflicts. While Legolas and Gimli bickered to the brink of physical blows, while the hobbits grumbled about sore backs and rainy weather, Hergest and Tegryn poked at each other (Tegryn kept calling Hergest "monkey" and Hergest kept referencing the maiden of Rivendell Tegryn had taken to) until Emerald was mad to get away from them.

The Fellowship reached snow as they neared Caradhras, though, and this both elevated and depressed their moods. Initially the hobbits were as gleeful as children, frolicking around and chunking snowballs at each other which frequently hit others than those intended. The first time this happened, Merry had been aiming for Sam but pegged Aragorn instead. As he stammered his apology, a snowball suddenly splatted against the back of his head, thrown by Boromir who grinned and ducked to avoid the one thrown his way by Pippin. Mithrandir and Gimli stood back watching, and Legolas claimed to be above such frivolities, but no one was really watching him, and occasionally a snowball smashed into someone's hair and no one could tell from whence it came. The snowball fight, juvenile as it might have been, proved a true turning point for the Fellowship, in an oddly immature way. Already they had learned to fight and think together, outsmarting a werewolf that Mithrandir easily identified as a spy just happening to wander upon their party. Sleeping together in the rain had made them miserable together, and with Aragorn, Gimli, Boromir, and Legolas dedicating a certain amount of time to training the hobbits in swordsmanship each night after they made camp, the group was learning to fight together. But the snowball fight was what taught them to laugh together, and that was probably more important.

At least Emerald mused so to herself, frequently reading up on their adventures in her book. Her group wasn't having nearly as much fun, though they also weren't under nearly the same pressure. After a couple days of wandering aimlessly, Emerald had decided they might as well visit Saruman again. She wasn't sure what, if anything, she could safely tell him, but she would have to think of something. Then Beven could look through his library and see if there was anything to be found about the Silmarils or Ivorwen.

The Fellowship began climbing Caradhras, aiming for 'Redhorn Pass' as it was more commonly called, on the same day that Emerald and her company came once again upon the domineering tower of Orthanc.

"I don't know. I might rather stay out in the forest," Tegryn muttered, his eyes creeping up the tower. "Is it as . . . I mean, is it any better inside?"

Alagedh snorted, shaking his head, "Worse. Everything is angular and cold and dark."

"Yes, the forest is sounding rather appealing . . ."

"Oh, hush up. You lot whined about maybe having to stay out here, and now I've figured out how to bring you in and you're going to change your minds? Now come on," Emerald scolded. Indeed, there had been much discussion about whether they should remain hidden or visit alongside her, and finally the latter had been decided upon. It made much more sense for Emerald to have an escort than to be off wandering around Middle Earth on her own again.

Saruman seemed to have expected their arrival, and even as they rode up the long winding path into Orthanc, he was slinking down the steps to greet them, arms open and robes billowing in the winds.

"Ah, my pet, you have returned!" he beamed, instantly going to her and holding his hands out to help her dismount. "How kind of you to visit a lonely old wizard." As uncomfortable as it made her to be in such close proximity to the crooked old man, Emerald accepted his help and returned his greeting.

"Yes, and I'm afraid I had to bring some brothers and a guard this time. I was in quite a lot of trouble after running off last time, you know," she explained quickly before any suspicions could be stirred up. This was perfectly understandable to Saruman, of course, though she could see by the narrowed eyes he studied them all through that they would need to appear oblivious to the goings on. "Anyways, I figured the more the merrier on a visit, right?"

This appeased him and he agreed, "Of course. It will be nice to hear voices around these halls – Elven voices, I mean." He wouldn't be able to hide that his servants were a cast of gnarled orcs. "Come in. You there! Take their horses to the stables," he called out to one of the very monsters Emerald had been remembering with a shudder. The creature sulked over and clearly it took great effort from the men to not show their horror. Hergest's face went quite pale and Beven nudged him from behind as Saruman and Emerald led the way into the great tower.

It was obvious from the glimmer in Saruman's eye that he wished to speak with Emerald immediately. But seeing as how she still hadn't figured out what news she was bringing him, it was important for _her_ to put off the meeting for some time.

So as to appear nonchalant, she offered to Saruman, "We have been traveling for so many days now that I really could use a bit of a rest."

"Will you dine in the hall tonight?"

"Of course," she nodded, and Saruman seemed content with this. Bellowing for another orc to prepare rooms for them, Saruman himself quickly showed the men around while Emerald slipped off to nap. She claimed the same room she'd had the last time, not bothering to ask if this was all right. She doubted any of the orc servants would dare argue with her on it at any rate.

Though she had only been fibbing about needing a nap, Emerald did in fact fall fast asleep. Alagedh came to retrieve her for supper but, seeing her curled into a corner of the great bed with her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks, he couldn't find it within himself to rouse her. So he pulled a blanket over her and explained to Saruman that she was too exhausted from the trip. The white wizard seemed unsettled but said nothing; the rest of their party groaned inwardly at having to dine alone with Saruman. Despite his cheer at seeing Emerald, to them he was gruff and distant and rarely spoke unless it was required, but neither did they feel comfortable conversing amongst themselves with him present.

Emerald awoke long after the sun had set on the other side of the forest, leaving Orthanc even more bitter and cold than it had been during the day. A fire had been built, its warmth chasing away the frigidity that had set into the rest of the stone tower, and for this she was grateful, though the idea of some orc creeping around her room while she slept was more than a little disconcerting. Her fingers and nose were chilled, so grabbing her book, she settled down as near to the orange flames as she possibly could, the blanket draped loosely around her shoulders.

"What _am _I to tell Saruman?" she sighed, turning the pages. Her parents were well, though her mother slept little with her gone. Gildas was unregistered. Arwen pined for Aragorn and Aragorn dreamed of Arwen. The Fellowship was miserable, climbing as they were through freezing temperatures in the dark. Mithrandir and Aragorn had been arguing for days about how best to get over the mountains, and it seemed Aragorn's suggestion had won – "won" not really being the right word, since because of it the Fellowship were climbing a snowy mountain in the freezing dead of night. Her heart went out to them, especially the poor hobbits who seemed to be taking the weather the worst.

"They're going the wrong way," a raspy voice whispered. Emerald snapped the book shut and glanced quickly around the room, but there was no one present.

"Who's there?" she demanded any ways, rising slowly and keeping her back to the fire.

The voice repeated, "They're going the wrong way. They will not survive the mountain." It was not any voice Emerald could recognize, certainly not Váromë's lilting twitter.

"What do you mean? Why will they not survive the mountain?"

"They're going the wrong way," the voice said once more, and then would say no more, no matter how many times Emerald demanded to know who was there. With a nervous huff of air, Emerald collapsed back to the ground and pulled her knees to her chest. What a grim warning, though from whom? She was now in an impossible situation. If she did nothing, perhaps the voice had been telling the truth and some horrible event would befall the Fellowship and they would be killed. If she did something, though, she could simply be sending them into worse danger.

But then, when she seriously considered things, she had yet to hear from evil forces: meaning it wasn't as though Melkor or Sauron had sent any messengers to her with false prophecies or warnings. The only time she had yet heard from anything evil, it had been that spy of Saruman's. But in this case, that was not Saruman's voice, and he most likely didn't know about the Fellowship at any rate. If he didn't know, his servants surely didn't know.

Emerald drew an invisible map of the mountains on the stone floor with her fingers. Aragorn had pressed to take Redhorn Pass, but Mithrandir had seemed rather adamant that the mountain would fail them and they would need to take the "dark, secret path." When she had asked Beven some days before what Mithrandir could possibly mean by that, it was Hergest who had answered.

"Moria is right there, right? Beneath Caradhras, Celebdil, and Fanuidhol?"

"That's not a secret, though," Alagedh had argued. "Even I know of it, and seeing as I'm usually the last person to learn of anything . . ." He gave Emerald a pointed look; Hergest and Tegryn had begun to figure things out but he still felt hopelessly oblivious.

Beven agreed, "It's not secret really, no, but it is rather dark. It's been deserted since the balrog was released there – dwarves, always getting in over their heads . . ."

"You think Mithrandir is going to take the Fellowship through Moria? What makes you think that?" Tegryn asked casually, but Emerald saw the prying for what it was and ignored it, instead musing, "I can't see what Mithrandir's point would be in that. It would be too dangerous . . ."

However, now looking at things as a whole, Emerald couldn't understand why Mithrandir would defer to Aragorn's plan unless he was certain it would either work or fail – in which case they could take his alternate route. But why waste time, and what if they didn't get the opportunity? Though she didn't trust the voice as far as she could identify it, she _did_ trust Mithrandir. If he thought the alternative passage was better, then that's the path they should take. She wasn't certain why he had agreed to Aragorn's plan, but it wouldn't work anyways. Caradhras at this time of year was usually impassable anyways. The danger, then, was that the Fellowship would get to the top, be snowed in, and slowly freeze to death, unable to get back down.

No, Emerald had to stop them before they got too far up the mountain. Mithrandir had a second plan that he clearly thought was valid. All she would do was meddle a bit and force them to plan B, for their own good.

Her stomach suddenly growled, so Emerald put her book away, wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, and swung her door open. The hallway was empty, and she doubted herself in finding the kitchens in this stone maze, but a light at the end of the hall invited her closer. Upon approach, she found Saruman standing, gazing out the window at the dark night. He stood so still, unblinking and pale, that had his breath not every few seconds tickled the candle flame in his hand, Emerald would have been sure he was a standing corpse.

"S-Saruman?"

Suddenly he sprang to life, turning his jagged-toothed grin to her, "Ah, Lady Emerald. You slept through supper."

"Yes . . . I'm afraid I was more weary than I thought."

"But I am sure you are hungry now? Come, child," he motioned for her to follow. In his study, a plate and goblet were waiting, warm as though he had expected her at any minute. Again the timing gave Emerald a shiver down her spine. Here she was, trusting her life to a man that she knew better than to trust. Saruman's dark eyes watched her as she devoured the food but avoided the wine in the goblet.

"No wine? Right. Tea? Cider? My kitchens are at your disposal, Princess." Cider would be lovely, and almost as soon as he had barked the order, an orc hobbled in, balanced a trey in his twisted hands. "Leave us."

Emerald tried to think rapidly as she ate. Saruman was a powerful wizard, she knew, and as clever as he was evil. If she asked him how to prevent someone from crossing the mountains, he would no doubt have an answer and the means to employ it. However, enlisting his help meant telling him _why,_, and surely it wasn't safe to tell him that a hobbit was carrying the ring to Mordor to destroy it.

As though scanning over her mind and seeing the internal debate raging there, Saruman calmly pushed her empty plate away and asked, "Now tell me, Lady Emerald, for I have been awaiting your return with news. Perhaps you can answer a question of mine, or perhaps it is unimportant. My spies have found a strange party, most unusual in its components, headed South. Might you know anything about this party?"

Well now Emerald couldn't _not_ say anything. Either he already knew and was testing her, or he would soon learn and then no longer trust her, but she wanted to keep his alliance a bit longer; possibly then she could find a way to protect the Fellowship from him. If he was going to learn, then, it had best come from her so she could continue to claim faithful servant. What was the worst he could do? He couldn't strike Frodo dead from here. His army was still being built and wouldn't be ready for some time yet to fight against Mordor. The best he could do was send some trusted spies after the Fellowship, but it would take days to catch up with them, and by then they would hopefully be hidden once again.

"They are the Fellowship of the Ring," she blurted out, making a split decision and hoping with everything in her it was the best one.

"The Fellowship of the Ring?"

"The Council . . . Elrond's Council decided it would be best to . . ." But no. She couldn't tell him.

"To—"

"To use the Ring against Mordor. They are taking the ring to Gondor. Isildur's heir is with them, and the son of the steward of Gondor."

"But that is exactly the plan I proposed that Gandalf the Grey so quickly dismissed!" he bellowed, jumping up and taking a quick pace around the tight room. It was more emotion and action than Emerald had ever seen from the wizard; she gasped and pulled back in her chair.

Thinking quickly, she continued, "Yes, he said that, but the truth is that they just don't want you involved with them. They say you have grown power hungry and would dominate their efforts, while they purpose to do this for the free people of Middle Earth." Emerald couldn't help but smile and inwardly pat herself on the back. It was a very eloquent and convincing speech.

Saruman, too, seemed to buy it, and sighed, "Yes, yes, they would say that, wouldn't they? But you know the truth, pet! They are planning this without an army, the fools! They hope to raise troops in Gondor? Troops of men that will fall at the hands of the orcs like mice to an army of cats. Fools!"

"Yes, my lord," it felt as odd to Emerald to say as it apparently seemed to him to hear it, though it brought a smile to his ghastly face and calmed him down, "but you see, they have set themselves up quite easily to be _forced_ to join forces with you."

"And how is this?" he asked, sliding into his chair beside her.

"Well you see, they are going to attempt to cross Caradhras—"

"Yes, yes, that is where my spies saw them headed," he nodded, and Emerald felt she had made the right decision to speak up.

"If we could but keep them from making the pass, they would be forced to seek an alternate route, right? What are the ways to cross the mountains?"

"One can go north and cross on the far side of Angmar, though they would not take so long – this would add months to their travels. If Caradhras is blocked, that leaves them only Moria or the pass near here."

"Right. I mean, they have the hobbits with them, and a dwarf. They can't exactly just trek across a mountain top, and Mithrandir is beginning to look his age." Again, Saruman grinned at this. Emerald was quite the natural at this evil conspirator thing. She supposed it came from growing up with all brothers. "Do you think they would really risk Moria?"

"They are foolish enough that I would not put it past them. However, were they to be assaulted within the mines . . . let us just say that I have some sway there. I could retrieve what was mine."

"Or, of course, they choose the pass that brings them near here, where any manner of things might happen to _convince_ them that they need your aid."

"Yes, yes," he nodded, then fell silent. His dark eyes bore into the flames. The silence dragged on until Emerald wondered if now he had died; he certainly looked on the brink of it. But at long last he spoke, apparently having been deep in thought, "A storm. It is not uncommon for snow to block the pass of Caradhras at this time of year. Doing so would not implicate me, and that is what we wish."

"Perfect!"

Saruman was still another long moment, then quickly pushed himself from the chair and laughed, "Princess Emerald, my sweet little pet! You have proven yourself as faithful as I had hoped. Even as a little girl, you had that _look_ in your eye. I knew you would be a wise girl and most helpful. You and I are so much alike, so much for the better. But now, the hour is late and you are near frozen, I'm afraid. Retire now that you have eaten and sleep easy."

"And the storm?" she pressed, rising.

"Caradhras will be impassible long before the sun rises," he promised. She nodded, forced a smile, then left him to his scheming in his lonely tower. He really was quite mad and also quite gullible.

Her own room seemed lonely and uninviting, though. The fire had died and she didn't dare call one of those creatures to relight it. So she ventured back into the hall and knocked on a door which just happened to be Tegryn's.

"What is it , Emmy?" he yawned, apparently too tired to be worried.

"I'm cold and lonely. Can I sleep with you?"

"Go sleep with Beven or Hergest. Or Alagedh . . ."

"Oh shut up."

So amused was he by his own joke, though, that he decided to be uncommonly charitable. Moving aside to let her in, he sighed, "Of course you can have my bed. Have any of us ever said no to you?"

"Only you," she laughed, clambering beneath his covers.

"Well someone has to keep you in line . . ."

She waited until he had joined her beneath the covers to ask playfully, "Are you really in love with a girl in Rivendell?"

"No."

"Oh. That's a shame. It would be rather lovely to have a wedding when all this is over . . . I'm sure you'll be a bit more grown up after this mess. You might actually end up making a rather good husband . . . some day . . . after a lot of growing up . . ." she mused, her eyes drifting closed.

There was silence and she thought Tegryn had already fallen back sleep, but just before she passed into a dreamworld she felt a kiss on her hair and heard him whisper, "Thank you, little sister."

hr

iREVIEWREVIEW please. Reviewing gets me to NOT go three months between updates. :) Oh geez, am I blackmailing readers? I don't mean for it to come across that way, haha!/i


	3. Chapter 3

Emerald wanted to spend as little time as possible at Orthanc, and her wishes were certainly shared by the rest of her company. Even Tegryn was happy to join her in the library under the guise of "reading on a rainy day," as they told Saruman. In reality, Beven and Emerald whispered to them to scour for any mention of Ivorwen or the Silmarils.

"Why?" Alagedh asked suspiciously, hoping for more of an explanation. Emerald gave him a pointed look and snipped that he was lucky she had told him what words to look for at all, and not just told him to look. He should know better than to push his luck. So he sighed and settled back and began flipping through a dusty old volume.

The search was boring and, as Tegryn complained, he learned far too much in too short a span of time. In two rainy mornings and afternoons, they learned everything from how many kings had sat on the throne of Minis Tirith to how many inches of snow fell in the Shire four hundred years ago. It was tedious and dull and Emerald more than anyone ached for the freedom to run around in the sunshine and frolick in the fields. That wasn't possible here anyways, however, and so they searched as much as they could while dining with Saruman and each taking their turns talking with the domineering old man.

It was Alagedh who finally found one of the magical words, suddenly sitting bolt upright in his chair and announcing, "Ivorwen."

"What?" Beven pressed, while Emerald leapt up, demanding, "Did you find something?"

"'Was fortunate enough to host the Meeting of the Maiar, this taking place within the walls of my very own fortress of Dunharrow. They had requested my kindness that they might have some place of great privacy but small discomfort, and this could I them offer. Of what was said, I cannot say, for they were shut up in a room of great length, and remained in Dunharrow two nights only. Of them was the great Curumo who is their head, and Olórin who is as significant as he, also Aiwendil, and Alatar, and Pallandro. Arriving and leaving with Aiwendil was a woman Ivorwen whom did not sit in on their meetings but was rather most kind to my wife and myself. Her daughter has just born a son—"

"That would be Aragorn!" Emerald hissed.

"-- she told me, her daughter being the wife of the chieftain of the Dúnedain, and for that my wife required lamb for some small celebration. It is so rare, as of late, we are given reason to delight with the fortress being kept empty in this time of peace. They have left us tonight and it is quieter here now than before,'" Alagedh finished. He stuck his finger in the book to explain, "It's the captain of the guard of Dunharrow's log. That entry is dated twenty-six March, Third Age twenty-thirty-one."

"Definitely Aragorn," Beven nodded. "But . . . the Meeting of the Maiar . . . I've never heard of that. And who did he name?"

"I don't recognize any of those names, though I suppose one of them must be Saruman and one must be Mithrandir," Hergest shrugged.

Emerald gasped, "Of course! May I borrow the book, Alagedh?" She pulled it out of his hands and went bustling from the room before anyone could ask anything further. She easily found Saruman in his study, his eyes staring distantly out the window. Perhaps he was thinking, but he looked like a corpse.

"Pardon me. Saruman?"

"Yes, child?" he asked, turning and grinning at her most severely.

"I was wondering . . . well, you see . . . it's silly really but . . ."

"Yes? Out with it, then, is the way to go."

Emerald sighed and sat beside him, "Well you see, I've always been fascinated with the story of the Entwives."

"Ah."

"And I thought I might look for them."

"They are gone," he assured her.

"Well I know, but I thought I might look all the same. It's something to do on a rainy day, isn't it? But you see, I was told that a woman Ivorwen might know something. Do you know where I could find her?"

"I am sorry to tell you that she is long dead." He seemed so sure of it that Emerald's heart fell; she had still been secretly hoping Ivorwen was to be found alive.

"Oh. Well, see, I found mention of her in this log, and it also names Maiar, but I'm afraid I don't know who is who, but you would, wouldn't you?"

Saruman's eyes sparkled with amusement, and for a moment he looked like any other doting old grandfather as he took the book from Emerald and perused the page, "Ah, yes, at Dunharrow. I will tell you that Curumo is none other than myself, Olórin is that fool they call Gandalf and not nearly so significant as I, might I point out. Aiwendil might be known to you as Radagast, but Alatar and Pallando will not be known to you, for they ventured East with me but did not return with me."

"Oh."

"However, if you wish to know more about Ivorwen, perhaps you should pay Radagast a visit. I have not spoken with him in some time but perhaps you might find him at home. He usually is there, after all, sequestered away like an old fool afraid of life itself."

Emerald grinned, "Would you mind very much if I went? I'm awful curious."

"Not in the least. A young lady's curiosity should be indulged, I believe, and who knows if you might find something of interest after all."

"Thank you, my lord! I suppose we'll be off in the morning, then." Saruman watched her hurry from the room, grinning to himself.

* * *

"You put us in a bad position, Emerald," Tegryn mused, shifting with the weight of his horse as he rode alongside his sister. "Because I certainly was ready to be out of that dungeon Saruman lives in, but I did enjoy having a bed for awhile."

Emerald pointed out, "You could have stayed in Imladris. I did warn you." She had a point, but Tegryn wasn't wanting a solution, he was simply wanting to air his grievances. It was now the third day since leaving Orthanc and the group was remembering how unpleasant it was to make a campsite every night and hunt for fresh meat before they could eat. Saruman had offered them travel packs, but seeing as no one really knew where his kitchens were or who was working in them, it was no surprise that the food he gave them went stale rather quickly. It had rained the day before, and the air grew colder as they ventured north.

It was an interesting change, Alagedh thought to himself, that Princess Emerald had not complained once. He hadn't noticed any great change in her in general, which was perhaps why the realization felt as significant as it did. Alagedh cared for the royal girl very much, of course, and he meant no harsh criticism in stating that certainly Emerald had always been a bit spoiled. That is to say, she had endured no hardship, had not grown up camping or traveling the way her brothers had, and one would have expected her to dislike the bitter cold and hard ground and harsh winds and lack of good food very much. She had certainly complained a great deal during their initial trip to Imladris, but he couldn't, when he thought about it, remember her voicing one complaint since leaving Imladris this past time. Maybe he simply wasn't remembering. But the truth was that she was behaving . . . well, more maturely. She was growing up right before his eyes, and, if Alagedh was going to be honest with himself, he didn't like it.

He was very relieved, then, when they made camp that night and Emerald began singing some silly little song to herself as she spread out her bedroll. It was nonsensical, something about a unicorn falling in love with a lion and their children running around with fuzzy horns, something she had probably learned as a small child.

Emerald saw him watching her sing and did a playful dance as she sang louder, stomping her feet and leaping about the tight circle they had made with their things. Though they weren't wood elves, they had felt so much safer camping within the darkness of the forest. Out here on the plains they felt exposed, though the sky really was breathtakingly beautiful. The mountains had long since disappeared to the west, and soon the thick eaves of Mirkwood would loom up before them – tomorrow, perhaps, which meant they were possibly two days from Radagast's home in Rhosgobel.

"Lovely, Emerald," Beven assured her without any sincerity. "I'm glad you aren't letting these dark times drag you down." He was, of course, teasing, because he knew she felt the pull downwards on her heart sharply.

Emerald insisted, "Yes, well, there's just so much seriousness, isn't there? I'm rather sick of it all." She plopped down on her makeshift bed and watched as Alagedh and Hergest struck up a fire; Tegryn had killed several squirrels earlier with his sharp shooting and he walked a short distance away to skin them. The last thing they needed was squirrel skins and guts attracting late-night visitors.

As they sat around picking at the chewy meat –none of them were exactly cooks—Tegryn inquired casually, "So, what exactly is going on between you and Saruman?"

"What ever do you mean?"

"I mean . . . is there a wedding in the future or something?" While Alagedh and Hergest laughed at the glare Emerald shot Tegryn, he shrugged and insisted it was a valid question.

"No! There's nothing going on between us. He's simply fond of me, is all." Emerald decided it best not to mention her pseudo-partnership with the dark wizard.

Alagedh shook his head, "That's a bit of an understatement, if you ask me. I wish you wouldn't speak to him alone. You should see the looks he gives you . . . like he's going to reach forward and devour you at any moment."

"That's actually a spot on description," Beven nodded. "I agree. It's an unhealthy, sort of grotesque fixation he's got on you, Em."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, it's nothing like that. He's just a creepy old—"

"Hold it," Alagedh interrupted, suddenly rising. Immediately the chatter and laughter died down; though levity was certainly welcome, since leaving Imladris there had always been the understanding that danger lurked everywhere. Snapping twigs and echoing bird calls frequently made someone's ears perk and their eyes narrow, and everyone would quiet, listening for any telltale signs of danger.

"What is it?" Emerald asked, rising as well. She too could hear the footsteps, which suddenly froze as though understanding they were being watched. They weren't human, though; something low to the ground and traveling on four legs. Not a horse, either.

Alagedh and Tegryn both set arrows in their bows, and Emerald desperately wished they were better archers. Shooting blindly in the dark was a bad thing. Simultaneously Alagedh and Tegryn let their arrows fly, and an animal yelp announced that one of them had hit something. But sudden snarling and howling warned that they had only wounded, and suddenly the creature was moving again, this time circling their camp like the predator it was.

"A wolf," Hergest breathed.

Emerald shook her head, "A werewolf. Saruman's. Just like last time . . ." Her comment was lost, though, as Alagedh suddenly sprinted forward, drawing his sword and yelling as he slashed blindly. Beven immediately drew his own blade, and Tegryn wasn't far behind as they jumped into the fray, into the fight that was waging just outside the glow from the fire. Hergest put his hand on the hilt of his own sword but gulped, and Emerald immediately grabbed his arm, making the decision for him.

There was a sudden shout of pain from one of theirs, a shrill squeal from the werewolf, and then silence. The men returned, Tegryn dragging the body of the man that had melted from the form of the wolf, and Beven helping Alagedh along, blood oozing from a deep bite on his arm.

Emerald gasped and rushed forward but he waved her away, "I'm fine. It looks worse than it is, I think. Thank goodness it's my right arm and not my sword arm, though."

"Here, Alagedh, I've got some extra cloth in my bag," Hergest offered, already pilfering through his things before pulling out a roll of cotton gauze. "I figured it would be Emerald most likely getting hurt. It usually is, isn't it?"

"Glad it wasn't this time, though. Those teeth were pretty sharp," Alagedh sighed, sitting where Hergest motioned and not minding when the younger prince took it upon himself to wipe the wound down and wrap it. Two of the werewolf's teeth had lodged themselves in his skin, and these he handed to Emerald with a laugh. "You seem to be collecting odd things. Care to have them?"

"As a reminder of the time you fought a werewolf in the dark on a moonless night? That was awful stupid," Emerald retorted, taking the teeth nonetheless. Alagedh took her scolding for the care it actually was and appreciated it.

Tegryn, having been looking the body over in the firelight, mused, "What are the chances we would run into two werewolves? I haven't heard of any other travelers being followed—"

"Oh," Emerald suddenly gasped. "Now that I think about it, we might not should have killed it!"

"What? You tell me that after I sacrifice my arm?"

"Well you didn't exactly ask me," she insisted.

"But why not kill it? Surely being followed isn't a good thing," Beven pointed out, to which Emerald responded, "The werewolves are Saruman's spies."

"But why was he—"

"To make sure we're going where we said we were going, no doubt," Emerald interrupted. "He's not stupid. He's . . ." How much could she say? Hesitantly, she offered, "It's in his best interest, let's just say, to make sure I'm not running off to Imladris or Rohan."

Hergest pointed out, "You're going to visit another wizard, though. How is that in his best interest?"

"Well that's probably what the spy was going to do, see what we talked about and report back. And now that he's dead . . . well, he can't report back and say I was faithful."

"The werewolf could have just been killed by anyone along the way, though. It doesn't necessarily implicate us."

"No," Emerald agreed, slightly frustrated that they weren't understanding. But of course not; she was being too vague. "However, how it dies doesn't matter. What matters is that it would have given a positive report back and I could have benefited from that."

"Why, Emerald? What have you gotten us into?" Tegyn suddenly asked, standing and looking down at her as she sat beside Alagedh.

She frowned, "I haven't gotten you into anything; you've come along on your own accord, and Saruman knows you're oblivious. Only that I need to remain in his good graces, and proof that I'm doing as I said I was doing would be helpful."

"Well, it's pointless to argue now," Alagedh shrugged, wincing as his arm jostled. It would probably be sore for some time. "If he sends another spy, which I'm sure he will, we won't kill it until you say so, Princess. If he's as smart as everyone says, he won't send just one spy to do the job."

He made a good point, but still Emerald worried. The mood was more low-key as they went back to their squirrel, as they drew night watches, and as they settled back to fall asleep staring up at the stars. It was a clear night, and although the land around them was as dark as the inside of their eyelids because of the absent moon, the stars twinkled like tiny pinpricks in a sheet of velvet held over a window.

Emerald, who was almost always given the first watch regardless of the draw, spent a good deal of time staring up at them, ignoring the stiffness that settled into her neck. She knew better than to lie back, lest she fall asleep. The dying fire warmed her fingers and toes, and it finally occurred to her she ought to check the book while there was still enough light to see by.

Her parents remained the same back home, and Elrond was sleeplessly pacing the halls of his empty House. Arwen had, after a brief stay in Lothlorien, begun her journey back to Imladris that morning under heavy guard. And the Fellowship . . .

Emerald's heart leapt into her throat. She sat up straighter and leaned as close to the fire as she could to read the page again, and again, and then again and again until her breathing was coming in ragged gasps and the tears clouded her vision too much to see anything except a blur of orange and black. She clutched her hand to her chest, wondering what it was that was hurting so badly, like some great bubble was swelling inside between her lungs. For a moment she wondered if this was what it felt like to die. She couldn't breathe, and her sobs, though racking her entire body, were silent. But no, she could only conclude: this was what it felt like to lose someone. Worse, to be the cause of the loss of someone, for Emerald could find no one in the world to blame except herself, and the knowledge was unbearable. She bent forward and let her tears fall, making tiny muddy dots on the cold ground.

Mithrandir had fallen to a balrog of Moria.

* * *

_Hey guys, thank you SO much to those of you who are still reading. I realize this is being a longer haul than you probably expected, and that EVERYONE is ready for Legolas to come back onto the scene. Trust me, he will, but it'll be a bit longer still. I promise it'll be worth the wait, though! ( well . . . I hope so, anyways, haha.) Shoot me some encouragement, though, and I'm going to try and get the next few chapters hashed out as quickly as possible so y'all won't have to wait too much longer. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_I have heard your cries! I know y'all are getting antsy to have Legolas and Emerald reunited, and trust me, I am too! Soon, my pretties, soon. But when you have to really wait for something it is just THAT much better. Review to spur me on and it'll be even sooner! :)_

* * *

Though late at night, still the forest pulsed with a deep glow that seemed to emanate from the trees themselves. All was silent and still, not even the slightest rustling of leaves to whisper in the night. The branches overhead were too thick to allow even the faintest glimpse of the starry sky above, but still Legolas paused to stare up and wonder.

"What is it, son of Thranduil, that you wonder?"

Legolas' gaze snapped downward at the voice, and quickly he spun to meet the stare of the Lady of the Wood. He stooped into a low bow but stood upright again when no verbal response was made. Instead Galadriel bobbed her head before studying his face again and inquiring,

"Do you wish not to answer, or can you find no words to lay voice to your worries?"

"My lady . . ." Legolas began, but the words caught in his throat and he realized he couldn't speak further.

"You are deeply affected by the death of Mithrandir," she read instead, her eyes scanning his furrowed brow and downturned lips like the pages of a book. His wide eyes met hers; gone was his confident stare and firm jaw, his air of immortality and his trust that all would be well.

Galadriel continued, "You wonder what must happen to the being of a Maiar upon death, whether they venture to the Halls of Mandos as the Elves do or into the great unknown as the men do."

Again Legolas nodded, feeling the bubble in his chest that had been pressing against his ribs and lungs since the fall of Mithrandir . . . or perhaps before they had even entered Moria.

"But you wonder something futher still, Legolas of Mirkwood, something which I cannot give voice to for you. What else rests so heavily upon your brow?"

"I . . ." he began, hesitated, then answered softly. Still his voice seemed to echo in the stillness of the forest, "I wonder if I might dare to hope that I am wrong in thinking . . ."

"In thinking?" she prompted.

"Might you know . . . the Princess of Arathilien. She did not stay in Imladris. I am sure of it."

Galadriel gave a faint smile, "You are right to think that." This did not appease Legolas, but rather made his heart plunge even lower in his stomach. She continued, "I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting this Princess, but still I watch her in my mirror for she has been chosen by the Valar in much the same way as Frodo has and Aragorn has, and perhaps as you have as well."

"This does not set my heart at ease, I am afraid."

"Perhaps this shall give you rest, then, that you shall again see the princess before her task is completed."

Instantly, his worries latched onto the suspicious holes in the prophecy. Would he see her alive? Before her task was completed: would they meet only for her to then go get herself killed? Under what circumstances would he see her, or for how long, and was she in harm's way even now? Legolas felt unworthy but not ashamed for his worries; he had never been a worrier before, but the fall of Mithrandir had only proven to him how fallible even the infallible actually were.

All he managed to ask was, "How can you know?"

"I am sure of it," she answered vaguely, repeating his phrase. With an encouraging but distant smile, she turned and glided gracefully away.

* * *

Emerald had confided to Beven the horrible news of Mithrandir, though not until the next evening. To share it with everyone would have required explaining the book in order to answer as to how she knew, yet the sorrow weighed so heavily on her heart that she felt she might suffocate did she not breathe the words to someone. So she had whispered to Beven to wake her on his watch, and she had showed him the entry and explained whereby the snowstorm had occurred that forced them into the mines. Beven had held his sister as she cried yet again, but his insistence that Mithrandir himself had made the suggestion to go into the mines and that Emerald should feel no guilt of his death was less than convincing.

Alagedh's reminder the following morning that Mithrandir had not found Radaghast at home when he had searched for him some months before also did not improve Emerald's mood. Guilt and fear gnawed away at the edges of her heart until, exhausted and darker than Emerald had ever thought it possible for her to be, she again fainted when they paused for lunch. They were a mere seven miles from the fortress of Dol Goldur, which her brothers steered clear of with good reason.

"Are we to be glad she's blacked out or anxious?" Tegryn asked as Hergest and Alagedh attempted to revive her to no avail. They splashed her face with water and slapped her cheeks and tried to sweet-talk her awake, but Hergest had packed no salts in his kit and Emerald seemed to need the sleep at any rate. At least she was still breathing..

"She does seem in awful need of a rest," Hergest mused once they'd given up and simply propped her head on a rolled blanket.

"Only let us hope Radaghast has returned home since Gandalf's unsuccessful visit," Alagedh sighed, his hand lingering a moment too long against her cheek. "We are a long march from Imladris and Lord Elrond's healing."

They commenced to eating in a ponderous silence, broken after some time by Hergest inquiring, "What has her so upset, Beven?" The realization that Beven knew things they did not had already dawned on the remaining three members of the party, but they worked to respect Emerald's decisions, as much as they might not like them. Hergest didn't care too much to know anyways, but Tegryn and Alagedh were consumed by curiosity.

Beven glanced around at the other men. He certainly didn't like keeping secrets, and were it him, he probably would have long ago divulged all. And really, he didn't know _everything_; just _more_. Still, it was probably for the best if he at least shared with them that—

"Mithrandir has fallen."

All startled at the announcement simply for the voice, for it had not been Beven that spoke. As quickly as swords were drawn, though, the figure stepped from between the trees.

He was shorter than Beven, who had always been the tallest and lankiest of King Orwig's children, but taller than Hergest and Tegryn, and certainly wild looking. The braid of his long brown hair had caught leaves and twigs as he walked among the trees, and his bushy brown beard fell clear down to his stomach. Finally wrinkles had set in beside his dark eyes, which sat like aged river stones amid his tanned and freckled face. His cloak was a muddy brown but decorated by a belt of braided dry river weeds from which hung a wallet made of badger skin. A necklace of wooden beads and eagle feathers peeked through his beard and stuck out from his shoulders, almost giving him the appearance of having wings himself.

"Are you Radaghast?" Hergest asked, even as he eyed the knotty pine staff clutched in Radaghast's strong hand. Even the youngest of the maiar was beginning to show his age, though, and in the shadows of the forest looked more like one of the Wild Men of the North than one of the mighty Maiar, the peer of Mithrandir and Saruman.

"So I have been called before," he replied just as Tegryn stammed, "What do you mean _fallen_?"

Beven, already aware of the news, instead pressed, "Our sister—"

"Let her sleep. Girl looks like she could use it. You men might take better care of a small thing like that." Before any could argue that really she made it rather difficult _to_ take care of her, he continued, "Come on, then. There will be time for answers later. If you've finished your break, let's get a start to make it home by night fall. We can hope my house has been left standing in my absence."

Fortunately, Radaghast's home seemed untouched except for a bag of seed inside the door that some small critter had gnawed through. The Brown wizard pointed to his one spare bedroom where they might lay Emerald to continue her deep slumber, while he himself set to throwing together a stew over the hearth in the big room. The aroma of boiling beef and hot tea made mouths water; after all, food had been less than ideal since leaving Imladris almost a month ago.

Until supper was ready, however, the men were given leave to explore the tiny abode Radaghast called home. His cabin, as it were, could not have been less like the grandiose marble halls of Elrond's House, or for that matter the dark and cold cells of Saruman's tower. Cozy and cluttered, the inside of the small wooden cabin seemed simply an extension of the outside to the indoors. The floor had been laid with uneven wooden boards and large worn carpets in muted browns and greens. The many windows were large and drapeless, though shutters could be closed on the outside during heavy storms. The ceiling too was wooden and mostly high, though Beven and Alagedh both had to duck through the door frames, and even Radaghast himself was forced to stoop a bit. Aside from the bedroom Emerald slept in and what appeared to be Radaghast's own bedroom, a small room buried beneath books and organized collections of flowers and insects was clearly his study. The main room, large enough to fit the whole party though perhaps not for any extended amount of time, served for cooking, eating, and meeting. The furniture was made of wood and hay and pelts and not altogether comfortable, but suitable to support the men as they inhaled the bowls of stew Radaghast passed their way.

When the meal had been safely tucked away, Tergest turned to Radaghast and repeated his question from before, "What do you mean Mithrandir has fallen?"

"I have received word from Lady Galadriel of Lorien. The Walkers, finding the Mountains impassible from above, took to a path through the mines of Moria where they encountered a Balrog which has dragged Mithrandir down into the depths of the earth," he answered simply, dabbing at his beard with a cloth to make sure no stew had hung there. He said it with such a steady, almost emotionless voice that his visitors wondered if he wasn't affected at all. When his dark eyes were turned to them, though, they could see the sorrow contained there, packaged neatly into his eyes as though it were the only safe place to allow such painful feelings.

"This is terrible news," Alagedh sighed, not bothering to wonder how Emerald had known so soon. "What about the rest of—" He stopped himself quickly, realizing perhaps he shouldn't bring such things up in discussion so easily with someone whom had not been present at the council.

"You are right to stop yourself, and in future would do best not to mention the Fellowship at all. However, with me in my house you are as safe to speak as if you were with Elrond in his cold walls. Perhaps safer, since no eavesdropping Elves are lurking about. What with Dol Goldur and the spiders, no one dares venture near here anymore and I rather like it that way."

"What about them then?" Beven asked, proving that Emerald might not know, or at least hadn't told him anything further.

"They," Radaghast answered, "Have passed within the borders of Galadriel's wood and are there now, safe though weary. The ringbearer still carries his burden, as do the others, and except for the loss of a dear friend and a wise mind, and a very good heart, the sun continues to rise and set on these troubled times . . ." He bottomed up his mug, then stared into the bottom as though confused by the emptiness. "The Fellowship will continue on, as must the rest of us. Am I correct, little one?" He turned to face the hallway, the only one to have noticed Emerald creep into the door frame.

She frowned, "That is easy for you to say."

"Easy for me? With my brother in all manner of speaking lying at the bottom of the known world?" Emerald coughed and gasped as he said it, as though Radaghast had reached forward and punched the wind from her lungs himself.

"But you did not send him there," she cried.

"Nor did you. Vána be damned if you haven't gotten too high a sense of your own importance," he shook his head.

"But I—"

"Yes, you did. And Saruman called up the storm and my eagles weren't there to carry the Fellowship over the mountain and Elrond allowed Isildur to walk away with the Ring when he knew it should have been destroyed and Aragorn relented to Mithrandir's plan to take to the mines. So you see that we are all implicated and yet it boils down still to Mithrandir's decision. Beven, then, can no more be held accountable for your decisions than you can for Mithrandir's. We may pull all the strings we wish to and yet people will do what they do."

Again Emerald opened her mouth to begin, "I know that, but—"

"We may all be nothing more than pawns in some great game of chess. Perhaps, little one, you are the queen piece. And yet you are still a piece in someone else's game. Tomorrow you and I will take a stroll to Dol Goldur, but in the meantime: stew?" He had begun serving a bowl as he spoke, and now held it out to her with all the delicacy with which one might offer a crumb of cheese to a mouse.

"Legolas all but begged me not to venture near Dol Goldur," she mused. The memory suddenly made her reflect with just the faintest smile, though alongside it came a splash of bitter worry. The idea of visiting such a feared place piqued her curiosity, but Legolas' firm insistence she stay far away surprisingly did make her hesitate.

"Neither has he obeyed every request you have made of him, has he now? Even now he is with the Fellowship, tucked away for a moment of safety in Lothlorien." Emerald inhaled sharply. He simply must be thinking of when she had asked him not to go . . . but how could he know of such a thing? How in the world might this wizard know of things so deep within her mind? Surely Saruman had not the same power or he would never have formed an alliance with her, nor Mithrandir or Elrond. "Besides which, the little princeling is an old friend of mine, and I doubt he trusts anyone in the world with your safety more than I, save perhaps the rest sitting now in this room." Emerald followed his eyes, but they rested not on any of her brothers, but on Alagedh, who was staring at the ground deep in thought.

She hardly had time to think on this, though, instead repeating, "Princeling?"

"You seem surprised that others have their secrets as well," he laughed, though still his eyes were on Alagedh. Knowing this, Alagedh shifted uncomfortably. "But come. Stew. I can hear your belly growling from here," he insisted once again, bringing the bowl to her and motioning for her to come sit. She sighed and consented but secretly swore not to ever stop feeling guilty over Mithrandir. Hopefully, she thought stubbornly, Radaghast could read that on her mind, too.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Total shout out to Dark Angel, who reivew out of the blue made me feel like I needed to sit down and get this chapter penned and posted. I realize that this chapter is about as much fun to read as Numbers in the Old Testament, haha, and I'm sorry. BUT if you can get past all the names and family lines, a LOT of questions are answered in here. I know everyone was ready for some answers . . . and I know everyone is ready for Legolas to be back in the picture, and he will, but we still have a few chapters to go. I won't say when he comes back because I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I *will* say that it is BEFORE the war is over. :) Happy reading!_

* * *

The walls of Dol Guldur peeked from between the thickly packed trunks of wide trees. Emerald could hardly see in the dimness, even with her excellent vision, and there was no path to speak of except leading in from the south. Of course, they were coming from the northwest, and Radaghast had clutched Emerald's arm to keep her from tripping over obtruding roots and sharp stones in the dark forest.

At first when they stepped into the clearing surrounding the hill on which sat the fortress, Emerald couldn't understand what all the fuss had been about. It just looked like any other abandoned fortress to her. The stone walls stood strong, but nothing moved, nothing breathed, and vegetation was conquering the paths and creeping up towards the windows. Radghast led her past the iron gate barring the entrance and instead to a series of low windows on the opposite side, rectangular and open for the all the world to step through to the courtyard.

"Sauron was of course not worried about invaders," Radaghast explained, making the large step necessary and then holding Emerald's arms to pull her up. "The gate is a symbol of strength, but even he knew that if a fight were to ensue, Dol Guldur would not serve him."

"Why not?" Emerald asked, remaining perched on the windowsill as she gazed around the courtyard. Weeds thrust themselves up through the cracks between the stones on the ground, and the sun seemed especially harsh in this break in the trees. The courtyard wasn't very big, but it felt like a cold desert.

"Pride, first. Sauron wanted a grand palace to claim victory in, not this small stone abode. But furthermore, it does not provide the proper space and resources he would need to outfit an army the size necessary to defeat a full-on assault. But come, I'll explain more." He offered her his hand and she hopped down, her boots making a muted click on the uneven stone.

Then she felt it, felt what kept the elves of Mirkwood away from this place. That's all it was – a _feeling_ – because there was certainly nothing present that could offer any sort of threat. Nothing breathed, and even the wild weeds were struggling to survive. But stepping into the fortress was like jumping into the depths of the ocean where heavy water bore down on your shoulders and chest, and distance hid the sun, and the darkness and lack of air made your entire body scream to get out, go, flee far from this helpless state.

"You feel the shadow," he observed, watching the play of emotions on her face. Fear, confusion, anxiety, concern. But always curiosity. "The feeling of the shadow is one of Sauron's greatest tools. Battle-hardened warriors falter when they feel what you are feeling—"

"It feels as though all the sunlight is being sucked out of my skin," she mused, staring down at her arms as though to see if this were true. Her fair skin blanched in the bright sun; she looked almost transparent.

"Yes well you of course are not feeling the full effect since you are clearly convinced of your safety with me."

"Is that foolish of me?" she asked, her wide eyes suddenly turning to him. She had never questioned trusting Radaghast; it had only seemed the natural thing to do. But of course, in hindsight, she had never heard any good reason to. In fact, Saruman's nod of approval in her visiting him should have been a warning sign.

"I am one of the wise, am I not? And also a friend of multiple friends."

"The fact that you are a friend of Mithrandir's and Legolas' means more to me than that you're one of the maiar," Emerald shrugged, relaxing. "After all, Saruman is one of the Maiar as well."

"Yes, but I wouldn't call that old crow 'wise,'" Radaghast mumble to himself, and it made Emerald smile. He mumbled to himself a lot, she had noticed. Perhaps that was a result of spending most of his time alone, but it also made him appear endearingly muddled. Yes, he was right, she felt quite safe with him.

Radaghast was leading her through the rooms, all of which stood empty –disturbingly empty. Not a single piece of furniture, scrap of cloth, or instrument of war or daily life remained. The fortress had been effectively gutted, and that the remaining shell on its own could remain so intimidating was actually rather impressive.

"After Sauron departed this final time, we claimed what we wanted. The rest, the forest has claimed."

"The forest?"

"Spiders, birds, squirrels, what have you."

"Oh. Who's we?"

"We," he explained, opening doors to show her their empty cells. "We would be myself, Mithrandir, Saruman. Also your Lord Elrond, a few other of the Eldar." Rooms surrounded the courtyard on two levels, but that was all; it was all together not very large nor elaborate.

"All the greats of the time, huh? What years was this?"

"Sauron built this fortress somewhere around Third Age Ten-Fifty," Radghast told instead of answering her question. "Mirkwood fell deeper and deeper into darkness as his shadow spread through the wood. Mithrandir eventually took it upon himself to confront the dark stranger residing here—"

"Brave Mithrandir," Emerald mumbled sadly and Radaghast debated whether to pat her arm.

It might not be appropriate, though, so he continued, "However the stranger fled before Mithrandir even knocked on the door. At the time, we assumed it to be one of the Nazgûl, and nothing further took place here for almost four centuries. The shadow remained in Mirkwood, but Dol Guldur remained uninhabited."

"Were you already living so close when that took place?"

"I built my home here shortly after Dol Guldur was abandoned. Before that I lived nomadically."

"Did you spend much time with the Dunedain then? Is that how you met Ivorwen or did you know her before Gilraen married Arathorn?"

Radaghast paused in his step and turned a surprised stare to the little princess before him. His ability to read expressions to the point of reading minds had not prepared him for such precise questions or astute conclusions drawn from clearly limited information.

With a crooked grin peeking out through his thick beard, he ignored her questions and continued, "For whatever reason, Sauron returned. Nothing is known about where he was or what he was doing. Pallandro and Alatar had been watching for signs of him in the East but heard only rumors and ambiguous references. When he returned, Mithrandir approached Dol Guldur in a disguise and discovered the dark stranger out for who he was."

"Mithrandir sure took an awful lot of responsibility onto his own shoulders."

"If you want something done right, you must do it yourself," Radaghast offered sagely, and Emerald's shoulders sagged at all the ways in which this was relevant to her life. "He convinced the White Council to attack Dol Guldur, but we had hardly arrived before Sauron fled again."

"And that was what year? You have yet to answer a question of mine."

Radaghast chuckled at her impatience, "That was the year Third Age twenty-thirty-one."

"So that . . . oh! Everything just clicked!" she beamed, clapping her hands together once in front of her body. The relief of finally making the pieces fit together, at least in this small corner of the greater puzzle, sent a wave of warmth through her body.

"What clicked, little one?"

"Before you met with the entire White Council, you met with the other Maiar in Dunharrow. You said Pallandro and Alatar were listening for news of Sauron in the East – but it's only because they live there, correct? They went East with Saruman long before and stayed there."

"My, but you do know more than I had expected. How have you heard of our meeting in Dunharrow?"

"I'm rather nosy."

"So I am perceiving. Yes, Pallandro and Alatar live there. They agreed to keep their ears open, not out of the goodness of their own hearts, but so as to ask a favor of a friend in return."

"Is that why Ivorwen was with you? Was she the friend?"

"Little one, you surprise even myself, and I had determined not to be surprised."

Emerald giggled, "I'm just jumping to conclusions and they happen to be the right ones. So it was Ivorwen?"

"Yes. Ivorwen, as you concluded, was an old friend of mine. I had known her since she was born, for I knew her mother before her, and _her_ mother before her."

"How did you meet?" It was such an innocent question, carrying with it all the compassion and sweetness of a child asking their parents how they had met. It saddened Radaghast to remember his late friend, one of the few he could claim as his own, but he beamed to see her work carrying on before his very eyes.

Once again, Radaghast avoided her question, motioning for her to sit on the windowsill they had returned to for the light; he perched beside her and asked instead, "What do you know of your family line?" The question made Emerald sigh; she had been forced to memorize her family tree as a small child.

"Well Papa is the son of—"

"No, matrilineal, Emerald."

"Oh." It was odd to trace matrilineal lines, though of course she had been taught that as well. "Mama's father was Eluréd, eldest son of Dior and Nimloth. Dior was the only child of Beren and Luthien."

"And who was Luthien the daughter of?"

"King Thingol and his queen Melian, who was also the only woman maiar, right? My nurse told me that but my tutors said they didn't know for sure."

"Yes, your nurse was correct. Now what do you know of Eluréd's siblings?"

"Well Elurin died along with Eluréd when the sons of Feanor tried to steal the Silmarils. His sister Elwing married Eärendil and bore Elrond and Elros."

"Yes, and the children of Elrond and Elros?"

"Lord Elrond has my cousins, Elladan and Elrohil and Arwen. Elros . . . oh, it gets tricky. I don't know all the names; they all sound the same to me."

"You know that Elros chose be counted among the mortal men, and he became the first King of Númenor."

"Yes."

"Elros had four children. Vardamir, Manwendil, Atanalcar, all sons, and a daughter Tindómiel. Vardamir had four children: three sons and a daughter named Vardilmë. He inherited the throne from his father but immediately abdicated to his eldest son Tar-Amandil. Tar-Amandil had three children, two sons and a daughter named Mairen."

"So many names . . ." Emerald sighed, but she nodded when Radaghast pressed her to listen carefully.

"His eldest son took the throne: Tar-Elendil, who had three children, two daughters and a son. His son became King Tar-Meneldur, who continued to rule Númenor. His eldest child, a daughter Silmariën, became the mother of the line of the Lords of Andúnië. Can you name the line?"

"No," Emerald groaned. For the first time in her life, she was regretting not having paid better attention in her history lessons. She hated the disapproving look in Radaghast's eyes.

"Well, I suppose they aren't all important. Silmariën's son was Valandil. For practical purposes, we can skip ahead to the sixteenth name, Númendil, who sought to return Númenor to the golden age by renewing old ties with the Valar and the Eldar. It was a revival, I suppose, of old beliefs that the Valar were worthy of respect and praise, that they might play an active role in our world."

"Yes, I believe a similar revival is supposed to be taking place now." Emerald wasn't sure why she said it, but what he was talking about was exactly what she had been told needed to strike up in their current age in order to hopefully appease Iluvator.

"I have heard the same," Radaghast nodded vaguely. "Unfortuantely, it failed then. Amandil, next in line, sailed into the West to ask the Valar's forgiveness but did not return. His son was Elendil."

"Whose son was Isildur who, after a few generations, eventually leads to Aragorn!" she beamed. "See, I remember _some_ of it."

"Very good. Now can you trace Aragorn's matrilineal heritage?"

"No. His mother was Gilraen, her mother was Ivorwen, and that's all I know. I take it I should know it?"

"I told you that Tar-Elendil had two daughters and a son, a first since if you noticed, the trend had been to have only one daughter in a house full of boys."

"Yes, because it's _so_ much fun for the daughter," Emerald rolled her eyes.

Radaghast chuckled; it had been so long since he had spent time around a young girl. They really were quite silly, and she was much sillier than the women of Aragorn's heritage had ever been.

"Yes, well born betwixt Silmariën and Meneldur was Isilmë."

"I don't recognize the name."

"Of course you don't. Because while her siblings were founding known lines, Isilmë was founding a . . . a secret line, I suppose you could call it. It's not written in any history books you would have found."

"Well what's this secret line?"

"She was born second age five-thirty-two. She had a daughter, who had a daughter, who had a daughter. Always a daughter, never a son."

"Can't you ever just answer a straight question?" Emerald huffed.

For once, he did. "No. Though now I will retreat a bit and answer your previous question. Now, despite how diluted it is, you must remember that these are descendents of Melian, the Maiar."

"Yes."

"And just as Saruman can sway with his words, and I can occasionally read what it is you're thinking, she too had a talent that set her apart. She possessed the gift of foresight. This meant nothing for Luthien or Luthien's children. In fact, none of the descendents of Melian showed any inkling of the gift she had possessed, until Isilmë."

"Did she have the gift of foresight? She – wait, you mean that Ivorwen is the descendent of Isilmë don't you? Because the rumor was that Ivorwen had foresight. Is that the conclusion I'm supposed to draw?"

"Correct."

"What about all the generations between them? Is there anything important about any of them?"

Radaghast shrugged, "Only in a limited sense of the word. As I said, the line was secret. The gift of foresight is not recognized or embraced by the majority of our world."

"No. It's best to keep things like that a secret," Emerald mused, tapping her lips and staring thoughtfully at the ground. She knew Radaghast would realize significance in her words, but she didn't really care. She was trying to find a way to connect herself to Isilmë but she couldn't. Isilmë's line only ever had daughters, and she knew her own mother's short line.

"Things have been done by these women, of course, and it is anyone's guess as to how that will influence, or maybe already has influenced our world. For instance, Ivorwen's husband was against Gilraen's marriage, but Ivorwen convinced him because of her visions. Gilraen then bore Aragorn."

"Which is pretty significant."

"And Ivorwen's mother too, it seems, chased a vision that is arguably significant."

"Oh? What did she do?"

"She left her husband to take up the position of nurse for the princess of a faraway kingdom." Emerald froze. Slowly her eyes turned to Radghast's, which glistened with the excitement of her putting together more of the puzzle.

"Svea," she answered the unasked question. "My nurse was the mother of Ivorwen? And she had the power of foresight?"

"Yes."

"But—"

"Gilraen bore a son, Emerald." The observation at first seemed unrelated, but suddenly Emerald wondered how she hadn't latched onto that instantly. The line of Isilmë's had only ever borne daughters, until the birth of Aragorn.

"But why—"

"Because she did not have the ability. Gilraen did not have foresight."

"I don't understand. Inherited abilities don't just—"

"Jump to another family? No, it's quite curious, isn't it? Yet the facts cannot be ignored that Ivorwen did not pass on the ability to her daughter, while instead her own mother traveled to a distant kingdom to care for a child who was not even conceived yet."

"Me?" Emerald gaped, but of course it was her. She had been told the story before. Svea had arrived at the kingdom and pledged her services as a nurse to Queen Lilwen, who had laughed that she had no children young enough to need a nurse and no plans for more. A week later, it became known that she was again with child, her only daughter. Queen Lilwen had been convinced Svea had brought the blessing to her family and kept her as the nurse, just as she'd asked.

And suddenly it all made sense. She'd had horrible nightmares as a little girl, and every morning Svea had been there to ask exactly what she had seen, and it had been written down in the thick journals that her father had burned when Svea had been locked away. Witchcraft. Black magic, they'd accused her of, insisting she had used her dark skills to enchant their daughter. Because sometimes Emerald would yelp in pain _before_ she hit her head on the doorframe. Sometimes she would cry _before_ a beloved family pet died. Sometimes she would fake sick on days that she just knew her tutors were going to try and wring her dry with boring long tests on geneology and history, even though they had meant to spring the exams on her. And once, Emerald had told her mother what her father was getting her for Christmas, even though he hadn't decided on it yet.

Overwhelming sorrow suddenly gripped at Emerald's chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs and slowing her racing heart to an almost standstill. They had accused Svea of black magic and tossed her away. Why hadn't Svea explained to them about the premonitions? The dreams? The line of foresight? Her presence itself was proof of her own abilities, and the journals should have been evidence of Emerald's natural implication.

They sat in silence for a long time. Long enough that the shadows changed directions on the ground while Emerald tried to settle the burning in her throat. Perhaps she cried, perhaps she just stared in silence. She really didn't know, because it was just all so horrible. Her father had put to death an innocent women who had never done anything but love and care for Emerald.

"Why didn't she say anything?" Emerald finally croaked. Her throat felt raw. Her face was wet.

Radaghast paused before asking, "Who knows of your gift?"

"Beven. Others maybe know pieces: my mother; Lord Elrond and Mithrandir both know—knew pieces. You, I take it."

"Anyone else?"

"I suppose Tegryn, Hergest, and Alagedh are figuring things out slowly, but I haven't told them."

"And why have you not told everyone? Surely most little princesses would be delighted to share such an extraordinary gift with the world."

"I . . . I just always knew I needed to be careful, I suppose. Even before . . . I guess I didn't think people would believe me. I assumed they'd want to lock me up like they had with Svea."

"That, child, is why she did not say anything. Because even the princess of a great king would be considered insane, a danger. Her time ended but you needed to be free to live on with your gift. Perhaps she knew more, but at the most basic level, you needed to live."

"But people knew of Ivorwen's gift," Emerald argued, suddenly sitting up straighter. "And no one locked her up."

"No one knew of her gift until she was beyond their grasp."

"With you?"

"For a long time. Rumors began while she was traveling with me, so she did not return to her husband, instead remainig with me until Pallandro and Alatar asked her to go with them to the East. She went with them and passed away among their community."

"That answers a question I'd always had," Emerald considered. "Why Gilraen sought aid from Lord Elrond instead of Ivorwen when Arathorn died."

"Yes. Ivorwen had no aid to offer."

Emerald was silent for another lengthy time before pressing, "But why me? Why did the gift skip lines? _How_?"

"I am afraid those are questions I am incapable of answering," he admitted. "They are mine, as well. Perhaps there is some reason; perhaps there is no reason at all. Perhaps we will learn in our lifetime; perhaps we will never know. But the facts remain. Are you working on any projects in particular?"

"Projects?"

"You came to me of your own accord. What was your reason for it? Only to seek information of Ivorwen?"

"Oh. Mostly. Projects . . . I mean, I suppose I played a hand in condemning the Fellowship to death and in sending Mithrandir there already," she pouted, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. "So far I'm two for two."

Radaghast shook his head, "You are very hard on yourself for a girl so unaware of even her own abilities. But come, you must have some greater aims."

"Well . . . I suppose I've considered trying to find the two remaining Silmarils. And I've thought about trying to find the Entwives. And somehow, I'm supposed to instigate one of those revivals you were mentioning."

"How came you by that purpose?"

Emerald shrugged, "How do we ever know? Dreams, feelings, voices. It's old hat to you, isn't it?" Part of her considered telling him about Váromë and about her book . . . but those things felt so personal. A larger, louder part of her warned to keep them close. If there was one thing all of his stories today had assured her of, it was that at best, she was alone. Her brothers could only remain by her side for so long. Hadn't Svea died alone? Hadn't Ivorwen been exiled and, likewise, died without any of her loved ones near? It seemed her fate, and yet the least depressing thing of all the sorrows of the day. Her heart ached for Svea and Mithrandir and really, it was a miracle it still beat in her chest.

"Yes, well . . . of course, though I can offer you what services I have, Emerald, they are limited. Instead of telling you the story of the destruction of the Silmarils, I will instead confess that Ivorwen, too, dedicated some thought to them. Though I cannot tell you the particulars, for too much was always running through her head for me to keep up with, perhaps following in her steps might help." Emerald couldn't imagine that Radaghast wouldn't be able to keep up with Ivorwen, however it comforted her some small bit. So Ivorwen didn't tell Radaghast every thought either.

"She thought they might still exist?"

"I cannot say. It was my aim to keep her safe and help her when I could, as it was with all the line before. I can only say what was, and sometimes read on a mind what is, but what is to come is beyond my grasp."

"Mine too, really," Emerald sighed, leaning against the stone. How long had they been here? The sun was beginning to sink behind the tree line, stealing the warmth that had permeated the clearing.

"It is always possible that Ivorwen left more information with Pallandro and Alatar, as she spent the end of her days with them."

"I suppose that's where I should go then," Emerald nodded, accepting as he rose and pulled her to her feet before carefully lowering her to the ground outside Dol Guldur. She felt the shadow tangibly against her back as they retreated into the forest, and for a moment wondered if she should mention to Legolas that she had survived Dol Guldur without so much as a hiccup. There was nothing threatening left, just an empty shell reminder of the dark shadow that now threatened them all.

"East," Radaghast was explaining. "They are in the far East."

"Why did you bring me to Dol Guldur, Radaghast?" Emerald asked, glancing back once more before it disappeared. She again had to rely on Radaghast's steadying arm to keep herself from tripping.

He seemed to weigh his words carefully before explaining, "Are you afraid of being alone, Emerald?"

"Sometimes," she answered honestly.

"You must overcome that fear."

"I know."

"But that is not why I brought you here. When you see the little princeling again, I would very much like for you to tell him that I brought you here."

Emerald gaped, "Why?"

"Why, because he will be furious with me. There are not many things I may still find pleasure in, little one, so I must seek it where I can." This didn't totally make sense to her, but the certainty with which he said when she saw Legolas again gave her a glimmer of warmth in the dark forest. But then she recalled Radaghast's own words: he couldn't see what was to come. Just like that the glimmer was gone.

Instead she tried to focus as Radaghast asked, "Will you be taking your brothers to the East with you?"

"I haven't much choice. They've all but sworn to go to the ends of the earth with me."

"It will feel as though you have done that. Tomorrow I will decide your best route with Beven. It seems he is better at that sort of thing than you."

"He is," Emerald agreed, but already her brain was jumping onto the new realization. She was going East. As in _East_. She, the little trouble-making daughter of King Orwig and Queen Lilwen, was going to do what no one in her family, what no one she had ever met save the Maiar, had ever done before. She was leaving Middle Earth.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Oh em gee, an update, right? I'm sorry to have left this story dangling for so long, because I know there are a few of y'all actually reading, and that THRILLS me. Trust me, even if NO ONE reads this story, I am seeing it through to the end. I kept hitting the wall with this chapter, but I've finally gotten over the hump and hopefully things will move much more smoothy and quickly. I've also inserted it into my cycle of story updates, which means it will **be updated regularly** from now on. Yaaaaay. Thanks SO MUCH to those of you who sent me random words of encouragement; they would get me to write a paragraph or two, and slowly I got the chapter done. I realize this is a somewhat boring transitional chapter and I almost skipped it, but it just felt weird and not right to skip over traveling entirely . . . but we are getting SO CLOSE to some action --which I don't know about y'all, but I'm ready for less talk, more action, haha. So hang tight, kids! _

* * *

**Chapter Six**

It was the next day that a werewolf came prowling around Radaghast's home. The aged wizard sensed it from a distance, but obeyed Emerald's plea to let it be, explaining quietly that Saruman was spying on her and she needed the good report. He asked no more and agreed when, just before their departure, Emerald asked if he might find a way to get a letter to Saruman.

"I'll see to it that it arrives safely," he promised, though the grumble was present in his voice. He made no secret of his dislike of Saruman, a dislike that had endured from their first meeting long, long before the Maiar had any notions of going bad. Radaghast dealt in feelings, he had explained, and the feelings he had felt around Saruman had always been bad.

"My feelings about you and your party, though, Emerald, are good," he continued as the men packed up the horses. "You are surrounded by good men."

Emerald grinned, "I know that I am."

Once everything was prepared, they bid farewells, and set off through the dark forest, Emerald glancing back over her shoulder until Radaghast could no longer be seen standing outside his home, his dark eyes trained on them. It occurred to her that she might never see him again, for any number of reasons, and the thought was strange to her. But then it occurred to her that she would never see Mithrandir again, either, and the familiar ache was back, the dull throbbing in her chest that departed only for short lengths of time when something managed to distract her.

"What did the note you sent to Saruman say?" Alagedh inquired several hours later when they had begun to run out of things to talk about. That was one of the worst things about traveling for extended periods of time with the same group of people. By now, they had heard all the childhood stories, philosophical theories, and amusing holiday anecdotes that could possibly exist. It didn't help that they had grown up together, Beven only a couple decades older than Alagedh. Since most aspects of their journey were off limits, conversation was slowing quickly to a crawl. Even this question, Alagedh wasn't sure Emerald would answer.

Surprisingly, she did, shrugging, "I told him we're taking a side trip to Rhûn. It's the truth, and he himself used to travel there, so I don't think he'll mind. I believe he still has friends there."

"Will he not be expecting you back in Orthanc soon?"

"We didn't agree on a timeline. I don't think we'll be in Rhûn for very long anyway. I just need to look into something."

"About . . ." Tegryn urged.

She gave him an impish smile and answered vaguely, "About . . . things. Are we there yet?"

"Ai, Valar, please don't start _that_," Beven chuckled, shaking his head as Tegryn threw a small twig at Emerald.

* * *

Rain. Sun. Snow. Ice. More rain. More snow. Always ice. As eager as they had been to depart the dark chokehold of the Mirkwood forest, the plains and fields that dominated the next leg of their journey offered them no shelter from the harsh elements. Fires were hard to keep alive, and frequently they traveled through the night rather than fight for rest beneath the pelting showers. In such instances, Emerald cursed her sheltered upbringing, for while her brothers had been taught to sleep on the road in case a need would arise –this being how most elves in other kingdoms slept—Emerald had been raised to sleep as Svea did, as the other women of Arathilien did, in a bed with eyes closed.

Granted, this gave them something to do as the men attempted to train Emerald in the ways of a warrior, picking up with what little she had managed to learn in Imladris. Having no experience and not much strength, what they taught her was not nearly as much as they wished, and Alagedh about drove her mad reminding her that this didn't mean she could hold her own in a battle. But she would swing her virgin sword around as they rode to try and build some sort of arm strength, and any time they paused to let the horses rest, Tegryn and Alagedh put her through some simple sparring. In general, she was terrible: her blows carried no force, were easy to foresee, and in defense she was slow to respond and had no power to block with. What she had going for her were her speed and agility. Decades of twirling around on her toes in an unending and listless dance meant that once she dropped her sword, she was quite adept at getting away. This, they decided, was most likely her best bet.

"I wish I were a better archer," Alagedh sighed one evening, his fingers running absently over the fletching of an arrow. Emerald had pulled her bow out and was fiddling with an arrow out of boredom one dry, warmer night. "Perhaps you're better suited to that, but I really don't—"

Emerald shot the arrow. It flew perhaps thirty yards and plunged into the trunk of a scraggly, gnarled tree that bent almost over to its own roots. These dotted the plains, bare and twisted, but did little to interrupt the overbearing wind that nearly knocked Emerald off Occamy during the day.

All eyes followed the arrow as Hergest gasped, "Emmy, you hit the tree!"

"Well I was aiming for the tree beside it . . ." she sighed, tapping the top of the bow to her lips in frustration.

Alagedh had leapt to his feet and, surveying the small error, insisted, "But Emerald, you were close – and you shot it to begin with! When I was working with you in Imladris you couldn't even get the arrow to leave the bow. Have you been practicing?"

"No, not really," she shrugged. "Only Legolas gave me some pointers once, and I thought I might try to actually use them . . ."

Tegryn snickered, "That is pretty rare, you _actually_ taking advice."

"Keep practicing. I'd rather you be shooting than engaging in hand-to-hand," Beven encouraged, and she happily obeyed.

* * *

Emerald checked her book daily for updates, feeling the isolation they had imposed on themselves by venturing out to Rhûn. Really, she felt foolish, and frequently questioned her judgment. Middle Earth was at war, and here she was, traipsing off to the east. But the book made it clear she was headed the right direction, counting down the days until some mysterious event would happen, most likely when they would reach some city or town to direct them to the missing Maiar.

News concerning the rest of Middle Earth was less than comforting.

The attacks on Arathilien had grown, and possible full-out war was on the horizon. King Orwig was actually glad that his children were abroad, even if Queen Lilwen did walk around in a sort of trancelike state, frantic with concern for her missing children. It was known they had left Imladris but not where they had gone, and the regents could only hope their children would keep safe. Several good warriors had already fallen in the skirmishes, and Emerald's eldest brother Auryn had been injured, though he was healing quickly and anxious to return to the fight.

Arwen pined for Aragorn in Imladris, and Lord Elrond contemplated on forcing her passage to Grey Havens, while his sons scouted for news around Middle Earth.

The Walkers rested still in Lorien, their departure date set for February 16th, which was still a few days away.

Rohan and Gondor were suffering as the shadow in Mordor strengthened, and the steward of Gondor, Denethor, was sinking deeper into depression and hysteria. The names of the deceased were listed in the book for Emerald to see, and though she had no faces to match them, Emerald couldn't help but feel the deaths chipping away at her heart. So many dying with no end in sight. The Fellowship rested on their laurels in Lorien –she tried not to judge, for they had certainly endured great hardship. But as long as Frodo sat with the Ring, it didn't get destroyed, and the longer it didn't get destroyed, the more people died. Emerald wished she could run to Lorien, grab Frodo up, and rush him to Mordor. Perhaps she could . . .

But that wasn't her role. Destiny. Fate. Such ridiculous words, such humiliating, humbling words that she was growing to hate. All the things she wished she could do, and yet the book made it clear she should follow her current path until the countdown ended.

What did the book know, though? Here she was, leading her brothers and Alagedh on a wild goose chase based on a gut feeling and magical words in a cryptic book. How absurd. How foolishly absurd. The same book that had led her to instigate Mithrandir's death, and sentence the nine walkers to a suicide mission, and to leave the soft beds and warm baths of home. What would happen if she simply tossed away the book? Took matters in her own hands and just did what she wanted to do: namely, double back to Lorien and help the Fellowship.

The more she considered this, the more the idea appealed to her. Her companions would probably be more than happy to rush her back to Middle Earth instead of venturing further and further into unknown territory. Already they were beyond the maps of Arathilien and Imladris, and Radaghast's maps had little more detail since he hadn't spent much time exploring this area. He had marked a river, the sea of Rhûn, and a village that he regretted was probably long-since abandoned.

Just before Emerald threw the book down in a huff and insist they turn back, though, a new bit of information caught her eye: Gildas arrives in Minis Tirith. That was all, and it raised plenty of questions, but still it gave Emerald some small relief. Yes, she was furious with him, and yes, he had been awful to her. But he was still her brother, and he was probably all alone. She wondered what he had been up to and what had taken him to Minis Tirith and what his next step was. But the book offered nothing, only that distraction that succeeded in making her forget about the countdown until the next morning:

The day the countdown ended.

* * *

The morning dawned with heightened anxiety on Emerald's part that her companions quickly picked up on, despite her attempts to hide it. The silly little song she sang as they marched along didn't quite reach her eyes, and sometimes she would lapse in her stance, her shoulders sagging just the slightest bit under the weight of worry.

She opened the book before they took to the road, but it was traitorously silent. Only a familiar "0 Days" in the familiar black script. Hergest asked a few minutes later if everything was all right, and her defensive "yes" left everyone wrapped in a cloak of uneasy silence. They walked or rode, mouths in tight lines as the sun gazed down at the tops of their heads. The ground grew looser and softer beneath the hooves of the horses, and the frigid night air was chased away by a growing warmth.

Fortunately, they were not kept waiting long for the dead stillness of the plains to be shattered. The sun had arched above and begun to descend behind them when a line of black ants appeared along the horizon directly ahead. The party glanced nervously between each other, but Emerald held her ground, continuing to move calmly forward, and the men followed her lead.

This was the easy part, after all, wasn't it? No more waiting. This was the event the book had been preparing her for, yet left her completely unprepared for. They were soldiers, she knew, straining her eyes to make out the individual figures as they raced closer. The question was: what was going to happen now? Emerald had no plan. Would they be friendly? Doubtful. Hostile, most likely, but would they listen to her? She needed to see Alatar and Pallandro.

The space between the groups narrowed. Emerald slid off her horse, motioning for those with her to do the same. She didn't want to look like any kind of threat, and perhaps placing themselves immediately in a submissive position would appease the army. It didn't surprise her when Beven and Alagedh stood immediately in front of her, and Hergest and Tegryn behind her. She wished they wouldn't hide her so, because she was definitely less threatening than they, but it would be moot to argue. No way would they leave her unprotected against an approaching army.

Within a matter of minutes they were surrounded, mounted men in suits of dark red and bright gold staring down at them from high mounts. Faces were hidden beneath golden helmets, only their eyes poking out, dark and rimmed with coal, narrowed suspiciously on these strangers.

Instinctively, the men around her drew their swords, despite Emerald's yelled protests, and their pursuers drew theirs in response. A standoff ensued, no one moving, everyone just watching, waiting to see what the first move would be and who would make it.

Finally one of theirs moved closer on his black mount, the loose crimson drapes of his uniform swaying in the forceful wind that made the loose sand underfoot swirl around their knees. He called down to them in a tongue Emerald didn't understand, which made her panic. They weren't in the west anymore, so using the common western tongue would do them no good, and Emerald knew only that, Sindarin, and Quenyan. These soldiers were far too loud to be elves and so Emerald realized she had no way in which to communicate with them.

That didn't prevent Beven from trying. He assured them, "We are not a threat. We . . ." before realizing he had no idea why they had ventured here. Somehow declaring they were blindly following his younger sister around in the face of a mounted guard of at least fifty seemed a bit juvenile, to say the least. But what did he tell them?

"I want to see Alatar and Pallandro," Emerald whispered.

"The wizards?" Beven retorted sharply, tossing the words over his shoulder without removing his gaze from the horses before him.

"Yes, I—"

But apparently their conversation was making the soldiers impatient. The one that had spoken called out again. Beven tried the same explanation, "We are not a threat; we are looking for someone" in the various tongues he knew. Not a single one contained a word at all familiar to the others.

"Put your swords away," Emerald hissed as the horsemen began to converse among each other. Her command was met with fierce resistance, and so Emerald chose to utilize the only weapon she had in pursuance of the only plan of action she saw. With a growl and a stomp of her foot, Emerald yelled, "Put them away now! You came with me on the agreement that you would follow me and do what I said—"

"And protect you!" Alaghed argued, but Emerald continued on.

"—and right now I am telling you that waving your silly little sticks around is not helping anything! Sheathe your swords _now_!" She stomped again and threw her arms up in the air in a full out tantrum that left more than her own circle silent. The army had fallen quiet and still in response to her outburst. Though she could see only eyes and get no clear judging of reactions from them, their silence alone seemed to attest to confusion and surprise. Perhaps women in the east were too well behaved for such displays of childish emotions? Well, Emerald was not.

And, at least in this instance, it paid off. Though still hesitant and skeptical, her brothers and Alagedh lowered their weapons, then sheathed them as Emerald continued to glare. That out of the way, Emerald tried to step forward; here though was where Beven and Alagedh drew the line, and they wouldn't allow her any closer to the line of horsemen. So she conceded to standing on tiptoe and calling over their shoulders,

"Alatar and Pallandro!" The same man spoke again, uttering more rapid and harsh sounds that made no sense in Emerald's ears. She shrugged to hopefully convey that she didn't understand and merely repeated again, "Alatar and Pallandro." There was more foreign conversation and then the man motioned to their horses. When Emerald shrugged again, he pointed to them and then their horses and made a beckoning gesture with his hand. That she could understand and with a smile that she hoped carried the same effect on eastern men as it did their western counterparts, turned to remount.

"Ride with Beven," Alagedh ordered, grabbing her arm and pushing her towards her brother. She made to argue, but the mixture of Alagedh's pleading face and the ineffable stares of the soldiers led her to concede on this point. She allowed Alagedh to help her up behind Beven, then gave Occamy a comforting glance as Alagedh tied her lead to the horn of his saddle.

The soldiers fell into a guard around them, filing into lines both ahead, behind, and on either side of them as they continued across the plain. They moved in silence except for the occasional command from one of four who appeared to be leaders; their golden helmets bore a large black spot above the forehead, whereas the speaker had a red spot.

"Why are we looking for the two wizards?" Beven asked once they had been traveling for some time. The sun sank lower behind their backs and stringy white clouds began to converge in the expanse above them as the heat of the day dissipated. When Emerald shrugged, he continued, "Emerald, there's a strong possibility they're dark wizards, like Saruman. They kept league with him, not Mithrandir. It's said they formed a cult here, a cult of the dark arts."

"And what exactly are the dark arts?" Emerald finally responded, not the least bit bothered by this.

Beven's frown deepened, "Black magic."

"And what exactly is black magic? Supposing that Mithrandir performed white magic, I suppose black magic would be . . . the opposite? Or simply the same magic used for alternate purposes?"

"You aren't taking this seriously. What have you gotten us into?"

It was her turn to shake her head, "I'm less worried about Alatar and Pallandro than I am about these soldiers. We're no threat to them, particularly if they're dark wizards and in line with Saruman. I'm a friend of his, remember? For all they know, we're here on an errand for him, and maybe they even know we're on our way. Prophecy is a sort of magic, I suppose. . ."

Her own comment got her to thinking, though, because of course she was in a way prophetic. Did that make her magical, as well? Always she had associated magic with the grandiose powers of the Maiar, but might small specks of magic reside in normal people? That made her even less frightened; in fact, now she looked forward to meeting these two Maiar and discovering if they saw in her something of an equal. The thought was intoxicating and fascinating but absurd –she realized that. Saruman treated her like a pet, but Mithrandir had respected her knowledge, at least in a humoring way. Or, no, more than a humoring way; he had listened to her, after all . . .

Which had led to his death. Emerald's prophesying had done that, a dark deed. So actually, was she not involved with dark magic herself? No, there was nothing to fear from these two unknown wizards, these two missing pieces of Middle Earth history. They would no doubt see in her a comrade.

By sunset they had left the sandy plains behind for outright desert and Emerald know for sure they were now beyond the maps of Middle Earth, even beyond the maps of Radaghast. The ground lost its stability entirely and the horses whined at the dry sand slipping beneath their hooves as they stumbled over sand dunes four times Emerald's height. Free from thought and the occupation of guiding her horse, she let her eyes roam over the endless expanse of light sand tinted blue beneath the full moon as it slowly climbed in the sky. Stars gradually flickered to life, first a couple, then a few more, and so on until the entire sky was alive with them, a black cloth thrown over her head with tiny holes poked in to let the light through. It made Emerald feel at once small and omnipresent. It was like nothing she had seen in Middle Earth, this place where everything was nothing. She floated along, the horse and Beven's warm back not enough to keep her grounded in the present. She didn't exist as anything more than a receptacle for the beauty of the sky; her whole point of being at that moment was simply to take in the rich night, the black that was too pure and against which nothing else could ever qualify as black, the stars that simply must outnumber the grains of sand on her father's beach. She could see why a traveler venturing east would, upon seeing this, wish never to return home. She had ties and a reason for going home, and yet for the moment, even family and friends were forgotten. The sky and the dunes were all.

Finally, long after the moon had passed directly overhead and begun its descent over their shoulders, they crested a particularly large dune that left them gazing down into a valley, at the bottom of which grass and a relatively large cops of trees rose up black against the grey surrounding sands. Dozens of small canvas tents circled a relatively large body of water beside which horses grazed, occasionally dipping their heads into the shimmery black pool. Most of the tents stood in darkness, but a few around the outer rim of the camp glowed yellow, and a couple scattered fires illuminated the half dozen people patrolling the area.

There was no receiving party as they began their descent, which Emerald would have expected at the return of the horsemen. Instead they were hardly even glanced at as the army began to disintegrate into the shadows, their helmets occasionally glimmering in the rings of light surrounding a fire.

When only a few guards remained with them, the speaker dismounted and motioned for them to do the same. Hesitantly they obeyed, Alagedh helping Emerald down and then keeping his hand on her back as she slipped her hand into the crook of Hergest's elbow. In most instances a woman would be left to follow behind, ignored by both parties as unthreatening and unimportant, but it was clear to anyone watching the value of Emerald when it came to these men. Perhaps this was what the speaker was thinking as he paused to stare at them in the dancing glow from a nearby fire, his eyes black caves in his face as he studied each member in turn.

He motioned for them to follow him forward, but Emerald leaned closer to Occamy, who nudged past Alagedh and nuzzled her shoulder in this strange environment. She was loath to leave their horses without any sort of guarantee of the care they would receive. Already other men had stepped forward to take the reins from them and Emerald felt sudden fear freeze her chest at the danger that she might never see Occamy again. It was not uncommon for an army to absorb the horses of wanderers on their land.

The speaker turned when they didn't follow and squared his shoulders, his body proffering the threat that his foreign words couldn't instill.

"Come on, Em, we have to go," Hergest encouraged, tugging Emerald's arm lest they actually anger the speaker. She frowned and glanced again at Occamy, hoping the speaker would understand and give her some assurance that they would have their horses back. None was given.

Instead, Alagedh leaned in to whisper in her ear, "When we see these friends of yours, you can ask them about the horses. For the moment, go along." It was less his words that forced Emerald to acquiesce, but rather his blind faith that she would succeed in her requested meeting with the mysterious Maiar. There had been no evidence they were even connected to these people, these Easterlings. As far as appearances went, they were currently simply the hostages of the natives.

What if the countdown had meant to warn, not to encourage?

Emerald let herself be pushed and pulled forward along the winding path between the tents. Occasionally dark heads poked out of flaps, shadowy faces surrounded by dark hair and beset with dark eyes. Emerald was glad to feel so small in amongst her brothers as the speaker and a few surrounding guards escorted them around the oasis.

The tents thinned out as they moved away from the center of camp, and at last they were brought to a standstill before a low, wide tent that stood alone, only a few yards from the water's edge. Two of the guards that had flanked them moved forward to position themselves on either side of the flaps, and the speaker himself motioned them forward. Tegryn and Beven didn't even pause; they had begun moving and didn't wish to stop and anger the speaker, so they continued fluidly into the tent. Emerald hesitated but again Hergest and Alagedh propelled her forward.

Inside felt smaller than the outside had led them to believe, due to the five pallets circling the small table and oil lamp in the center. A thin trail of black smoke twisted its way up to the very tip of the tent and there slid out through a vent into the night. When the tent flap fell closed behind Alagedh, Emerald spun quickly to see who had followed them in, but no one had. They were left alone in this isolated tent. She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling lost without her saddle bags and—the book! Her heart sped and her face flushed as she realized precisely what possessions had just been left with these natives.

"Food!" Tegryn suddenly cried, lunging forward and rabidly attacking the dishes that had been set on the far side of the table. A bowl of shredded meat, a plate of round rolls, a bowl of some strange round yellow fruit, and a few small dishes of sauce called out to them after five days of travel rations.

Hergest frowned, "Are you sure that's for us?" but Tegryn was already dipping fistfuls of the shredded meat into the sauces.

The opening of the tent flap again made him pause, but it was only a pair of their hosts with all their bags slung over their shoulders. They dropped them onto the ground and left without even glancing at those within the tent, and Emerald didn't wait to see their backs disappear before diving forward to make sure nothing had been taken. Her bag didn't even look to have been opened, though, and her book remained tucked safely inside.

"You can calm down," Alagedh offered gently as she wrapped her arms protectively around the book. "I don't think they mean us any harm." Her wide eyes begged for proof so he pointed out, "They didn't take our weapons."

"Oh." Her shoulders visibly relaxed. The first rule of hostage-taking was to disarm your captives, of course, but Alagedh was entirely right: everyone still possessed their swords and bows, and their daggers hadn't even been removed from their bags.

Tegyn snorted, "And they're feeding us. This stuff is good—come try it, Emmy."

"It does sort of look as though they were expecting us. . ." Beven mused, and Emerald's eyes followed his around the interior. Five cots for five guests, a lit lamp, supper. His gaze finally landed on his sister and he nodded with his head toward her book. "Anything?"

Surprised and slightly embarrassed she hadn't already thought to look, she shuffled closer to the oil lamp, feeling all eyes on her as she did so.

"What exactly does that book do?" Tegryn asked through mouthfuls as Emerald opened it in her lap and began flipping through pages. "You're always opening it but you hardly ever write in it."

"Is it like a guide book or something? A travel log?" Hergest pressed, sitting beside her and leaning over her shoulder. For once she didn't close the book from his gaze, her fingers still thumbing the pages. His face screwed up in confusion, "It's almost all blank."

Emerald shook her head distractedly, "Not to me, it's not." She could feel the stares traded between the three members of the party. Slowly, little by little they were gaining insight, but the clues as to what exactly was going on with Emerald were few and far between. A book that only she could read was simultaneously strange and expected, because by this point, what could surprise them? If anything, such a mysterious and unnatural thing relieved them, physical proof of the oddities surrounding this flighty little girl.

"I can read that, though," Hergest gasped, a shiver running up his spine. He didn't understand this strange book and was not comforted by Emerald's pensive frown. He had always looked up to her despite that she was younger, and even now, in light of this strange artifact, trusted her handling of it. But she didn't seem relieved by the message scrawled across an entire page in dark ink.

Perhaps even more curious than Tegryn, Alagedh crouched beside Emerald to glance at the page where he, too, could see the message, and read out loud for the benefit of Beven and Tegryn, "Welcome, wanderers. Rest peacefully. In the morning, we meet."

* * *

_As always, reviews are appreciated. :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: First of all, SOOOO sorry for the long delay in updates. You can always check to see what's going on with updates on my profile page, and if you look, you'll see I had a LOT of bad stuff I had to deal with. I am now back to writing, though, and since I'm not working July, I will be writing as much as I possibly can. This is my second update of one of my fics in two days, so that's a great sign! As for this story in particular, I'd really like to have book 2 finished by the end of August, since we still have one more book to go. That's so overwhelming, but also really exciting. It's been a long trek, but I know y'all are looking forward to what's ahead._

_That said, this is pretty much the last chapter where a conversation dominates. HURRAY! Not to say there won't still be talking, because there are still plenty of questions, but it's time to get things into gear, don't you think? And we're only a couple chapters away from the return of you-know-who. ;) Now, enough chatter. Enjoy!_

_WAIT, I almost forgot. We have banners! Chapters won't let me post links, but links to see banners for both Emerald and Ivorwen are posted on my profile page; feel free to take them and use them if you think of anywhere to show support for my story! I'm actually super proud of the one I made for Ivorwen. :)_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Emerald slept with great difficulty that night, and woke early, just as the sun was warming the sandy grass paths through the village of tents. Unable to fall back asleep and unconcerned for her safety any longer, she rose and tidied her things, then stepped out of the tent. The guards standing at either side of her glanced briefly her way but did not stay her, and so she took to wandering, finding her way to the water's edge. The tiny waves lapping against the sand were warm in her hands as she splashed water against her face and sucked it between her lips. Already the sun was reaching an uncomfortable temperature on the back of her neck, which had turned a painful shade of red during their trip across the desert, but a faint breeze played with her head as she listened to the foreign words drifting through the air around her: children calling to each other, mothers calling after them, men chatting with each other as they strolled. The women's faces were hidden behind light, airy veils, but most of the men were unmasked, curled black bears twisting down their throats.

Then language that Emerald could understand. A hand suddenly reached down and pulled her up by her arm, yanking her several steps back from the water. Surprisingly, it was not one of her own party, but a thick, double-bearded man.

"You had best stay out," he warned, eying her carefully. "If they do not want you, you will not survive."

"Beg pardon?" she pressed. But even as the words left her lips, she heard the shouts of her brothers and Alagedh as they came tripping down the uneven path to her.

"Let her go!" Alagedh insisted, reaching them first. The man swiftly obeyed, but still Alagedh pulled her back and against him, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulder.

She shook her head and patted his chest comfortingly as she insisted, "No, he speaks our language." To this man, who was soon flanked by the guards that had stood outside – were they meant to follow the men but ignore Emerald? – she explained, "We're in search of Alatar and Pallandro."

"Yes," he nodded. "But you must wait."

"We can't wait," she argued. "We're on a very tight schedule. Sauron's rising, you know." She hadn't meant to mention the dark lord's name, particularly in a land where the peoples were most likely followers of his. Alagedh hissed and pulled her back further, but the man nodded.

"So we are aware. But the Blue Wizards live where we cannot go and so we wait for them to come to us, and they guide us."

"Where are they now? How long do we wait?" Beven pressed.

The man pointed at the water, "They live in there. Blue are their robes, like the water where the light begins to fail."

"They live in the water?" Hergest repeated, his eyes joining the confused gazes of everyone else as they drifted towards the water, as if expecting to see the wizards floating around.

"Is there not a way to call them?" Beven asked of the man.

"No, no," he answered, almost laughing at them, it seemed. "The wizards do not do our bidding; we do theirs." Oh. That explained then why the camp had been expecting them, if the wizards were a sort of ruler of this camp; they had probably given strict orders that the visitors be well looked after. But had they not also said everyone would be meeting today?

"Well we're supposed to see them today. Did they tell you that? We were told we could meet them _today_," Emerald emphasized. She felt unthreatened in the village, and her curiosity to explore these strange peoples and their way of life was overwhelming. But also she was aware that the world was at war, and she was eager to glean what she could here and return.

The man shrugged, "If they are expecting you, perhaps you can go down there. But if not, it will kill you."

All heads snapped to attention as Hergest pressed, "What will kill us?"

"Their pet," he answered simply. With a broad grin that unsettled them all, he explained, "There is a cave at the bottom where the Wizards dwell, guarded by their ancient pet. You may pay a visit, if you wish." This information shared, he wandered off.

The guards remained, but stared off into the distance seeming bored. For a long stretch of time, the travelers too were silent. The sun crawled higher, the air grew warmer.

Eventually Emerald sighed and shrugged, "Well, there's only one thing to be done, I guess." Squatting, she began to unlace her boot, mentally trying to figure out how much of her clothing she should remove. Her skirts were heavy, but she hated to meet wizards half undressed.

"What are you doing?" Hergest cried, reaching forward to still her hands.

Alagedh nodded, "If they know we're here, maybe they'll come up. Maybe they're waiting until suppertime or something."

"Or something," Beven nodded.

"But what if they aren't? What if they're waiting for us down there so we can talk about secretive things without worrying about people hearing us? At any rate, they're expecting us. We aren't going to get eaten by any lake monster."

Tegryn was frowning too and pressed, "What if they forgot to tell their beast we're coming?" Emerald actually laughed. With all that was going on, getting eaten by some oversized fish was actually the last of her worries. Besides, Maiar didn't forget things.

"You can stay here if you're so worried. In fact, maybe it's better if you—"

Before the suggestion was even finished, Alagedh was unlacing his leather tunic and laying it down beside Emerald's boots.

"I guess we can all get eaten together," Hergest sighed.

Within a few minutes, all were missing pieces of clothing and cumbersome weapons. This was clearly unsettling to the men, to be going into a possibly dangerous situation with nothing more than small daggers, but a bulky sword would be no help against a water monster. Emerald led the way, wading into the water which deepened quickly. Within seconds it was to her shoulders, so she began to swim out to the middle. They would need to go straight down to conserve their breath. And it was probably best to not see the monster until they had to.

"They're all watching us," Tegryn commented once they'd reached the approximate middle of the lake. Sure enough, children stood at the edge of the water gaping while their parents spied a bit more discreetly from behind tents and trees.

"They think we're about to get eaten."

"Well I don't see anything yet," Emerald pointed out optimistically. "Maybe it's just all a big myth to scare people." Without another word she ducked beneath the surface and glanced downwards to see if she could determine how deep it was.

A movement below caught her attention and she watched, curious and concerned as what appeared to be a large boulder began to rise from the depths. Entranced by the slow movements of a bulky creature, she began figuring in her head, trying to decipher a way to sneak past lest Tegryn was right and perhaps the Maiar _had _forgotten.

Just as Emerald began to think it was possible, water movement against her back made her spin to see who had ducked beneath with her, and what they thought. Instead she was met with a quickly moving face, two bright yellow eyes locked straight onto her as a wide mouth rimmed with long sharp teeth reared open.

The creature's body might be bulky, but it's head, connected by a long, rope-like neck, was not. As she broke the surface, her eyes wide and her chest heaving, the head shot up out of the water behind her and then slammed down straight through the middle of their floating party.

The screams seemed to be coming from everywhere. Emerald, suddenly terrified that she had led them all into a trap, could think of nothing to yell except, "Swim straight down as fast as you can!" There would be no getting to shore in time. Either the creature would eat them or it wouldn't, but there was no use delaying either way.

She watched Alagedh and Beven slide beneath the water before taking a deep breath and diving herself. The creature had begun to swim circles around them, and she tried not to notice how gargantuan it was compared to them. Not quite as large as an oliphaunt, but certainly thicker in its body than all of them put together, its mouth as wide across as Emerald was tall. And those yellow eyes. As Emerald pushed herself deeper and deeper, kicking and pulling as the sunlight faded into shadow and the water turned cold in its absence, she could see the yellow eyes swirling around them, as if looking for the best place to strike.

Then, just as Emerald's lungs were beginning to burn, just as she was realizing she would never be able to find a cave in water too dark to even see her hand in, she found herself falling. Not floating, falling, straight down, as if she had jumped out of a tree. In about the same time that would have taken, she landed on her bare feet on dry, rocky ground, not a drop of water beneath her.

Tegryn and Alagedh were already glancing around in confusion, and within seconds Hergest and Beven had joined them, all eyes surveying the dark, stony cave walls which shimmered with what looked like light reflecting off a pool surface. The water, however, was contained in the opening through which they had fallen, and lapped at the edges of the hole above their head as though that were the ground and they stood on the ceiling.

"Ah, but what else is to be expected in the home of two aged wizards?" a voice asked. Emerald spun and was rewarded with the sight of, only a few yards away, two old men in dark blue robes, both with hair cascading down their backs, though one had locks as dark as the others were light.

With a sigh, Emerald confessed, "I was worried for a minute there that you forgot."

"Oh, that old thing," the blond one laughed, coming closer. "Why, tis nothing. She would not have hurt you?"

"She?" Hergest gulped, looking back up at the hole as though expecting to see the head poking out.

"Yes, she. Harmless as a fruit fly. And you, I take it, are Emerald . . . and company," the dark-haired one added, motioning with his hand to the crowd. "My, you have grown up, haven't you? I believe the last time we checked on you, you were only a small child. Time does pass quickly, doesn't it, my brother?"

"Indeed it does," the blond nodded. "But come. You did not eat first and you must be hungry. Follow us, if you will."

There wasn't exactly any argument to be made, and so they did, scuttling over rocks and through narrow stone passages behind the two missing Maiar who seemed shorter but more polished than Mithrandir or Radaghast, yet more approachable than cold Saruman. They saw only two other people as they walked, both with their backs turned and hidden beneath dark cloaks. For this the blond wizard apologized, explaining that most of their underground residents were out on errand.

"What sort of errands?" Emerald pressed, walking quickly to keep step between the two.

The dark one grinned at her, "Why, there is a war going on, didn't you know?"

"But which side are you—" Tegryn began, but Beven elbowed him and he hushed.

They were left alone to eat in a small, dimly lit room. All the light in the wizard cave was the same reflected blue, and yet no lakes served to actually reflect the nonexistent light sources, and so it could only be magic, Emerald reasoned. The food sat waiting for them on the table, and they ate quickly.

The exact moment they finished, the wizards returned, the blond one suggesting with a sweep of his arm, "Gentlemen, you are free to wander where you will. Worry not, you will not be lost. Princess, perhaps you will join us in our study?"

"Yes, I would like that very much," she nodded. Her brothers were clearly loathe to let her out of their sight, but she shrugged and followed, motioning for them not to worry. Easier said than done! But honestly, she had more reason to worry about them – how could they _not _get lost in this maze of dark and narrow tunnels?

But she couldn't focus on that now. Instead, she hurried after the two Maiar, tripping occasionally on the uneven path which they seemed to glide so effortlessly over.

The study was situated in a broad cavern which, though cold and empty feeling, was certainly larger than anything Saruman had to work with. A couple blue fires danced in large pits dug into the floor, intermingled with tables piled high with books, manuscripts, and odd instruments Emerald had no knowledge to identify. The walls were lined with bookshelves as expected in a study, filled with books as well as more instruments: small bags, boxes, looking glasses, strange metal devices, carved stones.

"So you have come to ask about prophecy," the blond wizard stated, motioning for Emerald to sit in a large wooden chair near one of the blue fires.

She pulled herself up, amused that her feet didn't quite reach the ground, and nodded, "I suppose so, yes. If you know anything, I mean. But _actually_ I came to ask about Ivorwen, and if she left any unfinished work behind. I take it you already knew I was coming for that. Oh, and if you know anything about the Entwives, that would be useful, too. But first, might I ask which of you is which and why you stayed in the East?"

"Why, that is a lot of answers for one little elfling to seek," the dark-haired Maiar mused. "I suppose the Valar know what they are doing, however, perhaps this once." He laughed, as did the other. "I am Alatar, and this is my dear friend and chosen brother, Pallandro. We will answer what we can. Middle Earth is mostly beyond our care, but our own lands are dear to us, and we have received direct orders to help you as much as we can."

"Direct orders from whom?"

"Ivorwen, of course. Well, perhaps the Valar through Ivorwen, though it is she we do the favor for."

" She knew I was coming?" Emerald asked, sitting up straighter. The possibility that Ivorwen – but then, if Ivorwen had been Svea's daughter, perhaps she had even met her! She hadn't thought to ask Beven if Svea's daughter had ever come to visit. The thought gave her chills.

Pallandro nodded, "Yes. She insisted she had quite a lot of work to do before her death in order to help you as much as she could. That was why she came here."

"To research about the Silmarils," Emerald filled in. "Which is one of my questions."

"Yes. We will give you her journal she kept notes in, though she never succeeded in locating them. The Valar would not tell her, so it is possible even they do not know."

Emerald considered this, then observed, "Mithrandir and Radaghast are still in touch with the Valar, but you had to go through Ivorwen?"

"Ah, clever girl," Alatar laughed. "I am afraid my brother and I decided to abandon the purpose for which we were sent to Middle Earth and remain here in the East. You see, these are our people here. There are enough Maiar in Middle Earth. The Valar were not happy with our decision to branch off, so to speak, and quit communications with us. Ivorwen, however, still received communications through her dreams – that is, her prophecies."

Pallandro interjected, "Though, understand us, we care little what the Valar have to say. We find their intentions . . . lofty and self-righteous. They understand little of what it is like for those of us actually here in Middle Earth and not perched on some distant mountain, watching events unfold like a child's put-on play—"

Alatar interrupted this time, "We have our reasons, you see, though they are no concern of yours, truly. We less asked Ivorwen to come here for her contact with the Valar than we did simply for the sake of her premonitions."

"I'm told you created a secret society of the dark arts," Emerald suggested.

"Ah . . . I suppose you could call it that. It is secret, yes, and we study the dark arts, yes."

"What _are_ the dark arts?"

"Magic that people are politically unhappy with," Alatar snorted, while Pallandro suggested, "Magic that is not currently in favor. Prophecy, for instance. Alchemy. Even healing, at times, is frowned upon."

"We get a bad reputation, you see, because we live in a world that is decidedly unaware of magic. You are –well, _were_ close with Mithrandir, and Saruman, so you are familiar. To you, perhaps dark magic is simply magic used for offensive purposes, and white magic is simply defensive. But to those who have not known Maiar in a positive light, _all_ magic is dark magic, whether you are serving evil purposes or not."

Emerald's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she pressed, "Well what purpose are you serving?"

"Certainly not one we must defend to a little girl!" Alatar insisted, while Pallandro patted his arm and answered, "Knowledge. People die and that is not so much a concern of ours. We wish for the knowledge that the Valar keep absent from the Maiar. We wish to have mastered prophecy, alchemy, elemental control. We wish to create life, to change fate."

"But are you for or against Sauron?"

"Why, neither."

"Well, we are against Sauron," Pallandro corrected, "as we are against the Valar and anyone else who tries to impose rules over us. We are simply independent, you could say, and have a wide following who agree with us. Such as that camp you are a guest in above."

Emerald gave an uncertain smile, "You don't think they follow you just because you have magic and they don't?" The stares she received seemed offended, and she made a mental note to back off and not speak so freely with them as she had with Radaghast. "Sorry," she added. "I'm just trying to understand. Do they _worship_ you?"

"Perhaps," Pallandro answered vaguely.

Alatar gave her a pointed look, "You should not be so quick to condemn, elfling. You are prophetic and not actively involved in the fight against Sauron. You are one of us, looking to turn the tides and achieve a purpose that is not what Iluvator has, are you not? You are trying to save a world fate has condemned."

"I suppose I am," she conceded, not wishing to argue. "But about Ivorwen. You said she did not find the Silmarils. What did she prophecy for you?"

"The war with Sauron. Your coming to us. By the time she reached us, her prophetic vision had narrowed significantly –perhaps as a punishment from the Valar due to her joining us here. Her visions were mostly small and specific. However, she was still able to lend much to our studies. It was a sad day when she passed."

Emerald contained her huff of frustration. Here she had come to the end of her search for Ivorwen, but Alatar and Pallandro were actually little help at all. Ivorwen had not found the Silmarils. They had nothing new to tell her about Ivorwen, and seemed to know even less about prophecy than Emerald did.

"Ivorwen attempted , with our help, to break down what exactly gave one foresight, and recreate that in others. We have not yet succeeded," Pallandro confessed, looking crestfallen. "Though we have made great advances in alchemy, and even some small steps in therianthropy---"

"What's that?"

"Shapeshifting," he explained. "You see, we can find individuals with such capabilities, but our goal is to make it possible for others – well, but that was not your question, and though Ivorwen asked us to treat you hospitably and answer what questions we could, we must also protect ourselves, you understand. Perhaps you will be very powerful someday."

Emerald laughed, "I doubt it. I'm only trying to stay alive."

"Invincibility . . ." Alatar mused, giving his brother-of-sorts a serious look. Pallandro said something back in a language Emerald did not understand, and the subject was dropped.

"Well, I believe you have answered all my questions, then," Emerald sighed, trying not to look disappointed. "Oh, except, do you possibly know where the Entwives are?"

Now Pallandro and Alatar grinned at her, warm and friendly once again, and the former offered, "North, I believe, though we cannot be sure. It is only a voice on the wind that told us so. But perhaps they are there."

"All right. Oh, and before I forget," Emerald added. "You sent me a message last night that we would meet today. How did you do that?" She intentionally did not mention the book.

The answer came solely in her mind, Alatar's voice internally answering, "We have mastered telepathy and sent it to your mind simply by thinking it. It sounded like this, yes?" Emerald lied and nodded. Actually it had appeared in the book . . . but it had been sent to her mind, which was something to take note of.

"Might we, princess, ask you a favor in return?" The question made Emerald's chest freeze up, but she nodded hesitantly. "Might you take an artifact to Saruman? It is in a language that our brother Maiar can translate but that we ourselves are not quite fluent in. It is only a piece of parchment."

"Oh," Emerald nodded, smiling with relief. "Of course I can do that."

Quickly Alatar and Pallandro retrieved this for her, along with the journal Ivorwen had kept concerning her search for the Silmarils. These in hand, Emerald followed the Maiar back to the dining hall, wincing as she occasionally stepped barefoot on small stones.

It was an odd feeling when Emerald first entered the room. The men were all still present, as though they had never left, but their faces bore panicked expressions and they leapt up at her arrival. Instantly the Maiar behind her stood straighter, their faces hardening.

"What's the matter?" she pressed, stepping closer to her brothers and away from the Maiar.

Beven shook his head, "We were just wondering where you'd gone to, is all. It's been hours." Hergest and Tegryn had never been good liars, though, and she could read on their faces that something had indeed happened, something they didn't want the Maiar knowing about.

The wizards suspected something, clearly, but were doing nothing to investigate yet. Emerald didn't wish to test their patience and see how far Ivorwen's request would last them. So instead she turned and thanked them, promising to get the artifact safely into Saruman's hands and wondering how they might return to the surface.

"That staircase there will let you out a short walk to the east of camp. It will disappear as soon as you exit, though, so do not try to regain entrance."

"Right. Thank you again!" Emerald called, shuffling her company to the staircase, the entrance of which closed as soon as they were on the stairwell. Still nothing was said as they climbed and climbed, walking much further than it felt like they had swum. Even once they were back in the open air, under a sun nearing the far horizon – Emerald couldn't help but doubt the passage of time; she and the wizards hadn't talked _that_ long! – they remained mum, trekking silently through the desert on their bare. Somehow the sand remained cool – one last favor from the wizards? If so, Emerald was grateful.

The natives stared but did not speak as they re-entered camp and made straight for their tent. Inside food had once again been set out, as well as a jug of wine that Hergest took a long swig from. Emerald didn't even bother looking at the notes or artifact yet; she tucked them in her bag alongside the book and turned expectantly to the company. All were sunburned and exhausted and clearly distressed.

"Well?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "What happened? You weren't just worried about me!"

"Tegryn broke a vial of something," Hergest quickly tattled, lying back and closing his eyes. "Knocked it off a table!"

"It cut my leg and nearly burned straight through to the bone," Tegryn gulped. Emerald gasped and dove forward as he extended his leg; she hadn't noticed the patch missing from his britches, but now saw the gaping hole. She almost didn't look, terrified to see whatever chemical burn he had endured.

But when she glanced in, there was no wound to be seen. His skin looked perfectly whole, not even the least bit off-color.

Her face screwed up in confusion as she turned to Beven, her voice of reason, and pressed, "But I thought—"

"Hergest was the closest one to him and—"

"I accidentally touched it," Hergest shuddered. "Trying to see if it had hurt him."

"And?"

Alagedh coughed and finally explained simply, "When Hergest touched it, the wound healed."

* * *

_Final note: For those of you who are super-aware of all the history Tolkien wrote, I know there is debate about whether the Blue Wizards were fighting against or simply unconcerned with Sauron. The way I've written them is what felt right for me in the story, as well as the aspect of them Tolkien wrote that I find the most intriguing. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys, you can read my profile page (as always) to see what's been going on with me and where I've been so long. I wasn't planning on posting this until it was actually this story's turn in the cycle to be updated, but hey, what better way for me to get back into updating my stories than to ACTUALLY update one? So here it is. :)_

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

This new skill of Hergest's begged an explanation, but something in Emerald's gut told her Alatar and Pallandro were not the two to inquire it of. In fact, their close proximity made her increasingly nervous, and after tossing and turning through restless dreams for several hours, she finally awoke long before the dawn to find Alagedh sitting by the tent flaps. Though they were made to feel safe here in this tent, she was apparently not the only one to have felt an uneasiness, and night watches had continued without her knowledge.

"All well?" Alagedh asked, seeing her rise. The fire had been put out to diminish the heat, but a few final glowing embers cast a faint orange warmth around the tight room. She picked her way around the circle to sit close beside him, welcoming the comfort of their touching knees. Each passing day made her more and more grateful for the strength and faithfulness of those in her company, Alagedh being no exception.

Her eyes peered where his had been watching through the narrow slit left between the tent flaps as she confessed, "I am uneasy here. I wish to be on our way."

"We will be soon. The moment the sun rises." When she cast a surprised glance at him in the dark, he explained, "Beven and I decided to kidnap you and run from here, if need be. I think all of us feel uneasy around these wizards. At least Saruman shows an affection for you, but these two seemed to just be putting up with us . . . anyway, we thought it best that we be on our way sooner rather than later."

"Yes," she agreed. "Especially with Hergest . . . These wizards practice prophecy. I don't know how adept they are at it – I mean, how much of what they know is leftover premonitions from Ivorwen and how much is their own doing. But I would rather them not know about Hergest until we are out of their reach."

"So you think . . ."

"It would fit his personality, wouldn't it? For him to be a healer?"

Alagedh chuckled and nodded, "Definitely. Not a hateful bone in that boy's body. It would have been nice for him to show these talents when you were younger, though, eh? Would have saved you a lot of bed rest and punishments for reckless behavior . . ."

"Don't make me think of it," she laughed. Her head fell innocently onto Alagedh's shoulder. He stiffened, then relaxed.

To mask his reaction, Alagedh inquired, "So where are we headed to next, Princess?"

"Back to Orthanc. I promised to carry a message there for Alatar and Pallandro. I daresay we ought to keep Hergest a secret from him too . . . but perhaps once we are finished there we will go to visit Elrond or Galadriel. No doubt they will be able to help him learn what he needs to." Her head was still on Alagedh's shoulder, and though it made him immensely uncomfortable, he daren't make her move, unsure when they would get such close proximity again.

Instead he offered, "Well, that sounds like a straight plan. Why don't you try to get a little more sleep for now, though. We'll leave soon." She nodded, but did not move, instead drifting back to sleep as she was, now much more at ease. Alagedh remained frozen and could not have slept even had he meant to.

* * *

It was fortunately easy to slip away the next morning, and the camp merely watched their retreating backs from a distance with the same curiously suspicious eyes. Guards followed them to the edge of the tents but no further, and as the sun grew warmer on their scalps, the oasis faded into the distance behind their shoulders.

The horses had fared well under the care of the camp stables, and regained what strength had been lost, and would be lost again, during the two-week trek to Orthanc. Emerald waited until the next day to check her book. She had spoken freely of their plans within the camp, only later to realize that inquisitive ears may have been perched just outside. Because she and Alagedh couldn't hear anyone near didn't mean dark magic couldn't lend some shield. Yet they had left unharassed so she thought no more on it.

But once the camp was already slipping into memory, Emerald hauled her book out of the satchel and flipped through as they ambled, her eyes scouring the pages for anything that might help with Hergest. Instead she learned only that the state of Middle Earth had continued to deteriorate in their absence, and that the Fellowship had departed from Lothlorien on February 16th, the same day they left the camp in the east. While she was glad they had resumed their journey, a small part of her regretted there would be no chance now of crossing paths with them should they visit the Lady of the Wood.

As for Hergest, the book offered nothing. The healing incident had not even been added to his biography page, and Emerald huffed with frustration that the book was really becoming less and less helpful. Instead, the group took to experimenting on their own. When skin became raw and blistered from the sun, Hergest would lay his hand on the redness. Sometimes the cool feel of rushing water would cascade over the area his hand touched and the skin would return to its normal fair shade. Sometimes nothing happened at all. No matter how intensely he was quizzed , Hergest could find nothing different that he himself did between the failures and successes. It became frustratingly clear his talent couldn't necessarily be relied on in an emergency situation, which was a shame, since such a thing would have proven quite comforting to the men who were constantly aware of Emerald's delicateness.

And yet she was not quite so delicate as they thought, or perhaps as they remembered. The desert sun, if nothing else, forced her constitution to harden, and she learned that complaining of thirst only dried one's throat out more, and that the heat of the day was no better nor worse than the frozen temperatures they had endured before. She found she had even adapted to the small rations and felt less hunger between meager meals.

Then suddenly, as though huffy at her complaints, the book stopped offering anything at all concerning the Fellowship. On February 25th she was told they had reached Parth Galen, a place unfamiliar to her. Beven said he knew only the location, that such was the name of the grassy area beneath Amon Hen along the banks of the Anduin. He could think of nothing significant of the region, though, other than that it had at once, and he thought still, belonged to Gondor. Hergest wondered if there wasn't any region of Middle Earth Beven didn't have memorized, that he should know some lawn in a foreign region by name. Beven proudly stated that no, there probably wasn't.

On February 26th, she was told simply "The Fellowship has broken," and the announcement left her heart cold and her hands shaking. What did that mean? Had they been killed? Captured? It was difficult not to assume the worst, yet the book had only said the Fellowship had _broken_. Perhaps they had simply gone their own ways. Emerald hoped for the best but feared the worst and bit back the tears, refusing to think in detail about what this could mean. Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Legolas . . . what had happened to them all? She could bear the weight of no more deaths, particularly not of those dear to her.

Without the book to fill her sleepless nights, Emerald took to perusing Ivorwen's notes. They were mostly incoherent: snippets of prophecies without any further explanation, lines of disjointed poems, unidentifiable drawings. Many, too, were in a language she did not recognize, the same language of the note the Blue Wizards have given her for Saruman. Even Beven could not read the language, though he could occasionally pick out a proper noun which had been written in Quenyan. His only guide as he began the word of deciphering the Blue Wizards' artifact were four long lines of the same language that Ivorwen had translated into Quenyan in her notes.

The one thing in Ivorwen's notes that did make sense to Emerald, and which gave her heart some small comfort, was the very free-verse poem Váromë had given to her: "Where there is Light, Shadow cannot come. When Light goes forth, all Shadow shall be blinded and flee before it. Where Love is great, Hatred cannot enter. And where Hope stands proud, Despair shall not approach." That Ivorwen had foreseen this message so long before Váromë uttered it to Emerald gave her a tiny morsel of hope, as though further validation had been given to what she was betting her life – and those of many others – on.

On the evening of March 1st, almost exactly two weeks from the day they had left the camp in the East, Emerald's party reached the ring of Isengard. Coming from the northeast, they had to circle around south to reach the tower gates, and there found Saruman himself waiting for them. Grey clouds overhead were threatening a severe storm, and so all were glad to have reached shelter – even if it was within the house of Saruman. His sharp smile leered down at them from his perch on the lookout point before the inner gate. They waited as he descended the staircase and came out behind them through the Guardroom, his arms cast wide and his robes billowing in the growing wind.

"My child! Friends! You have returned," he beamed, dropping his arms as he drew closer. "Here I have been lonely, counting down the days until your return. I had begun to doubt you, my lady."

She forced a smile back at him and slipped from her saddle, "Come now, my lord. You did no such thing. I had told you I would return."

"Yes, but not that you would be taking a detour to the far east," he chuckled.

"Did you not receive my letter? I told Radaghast to—"

"Oh, yes, yes," he nodded. "That I received. And how are my good friends—but, you must be exhausted. It is a long journey to their cave, if I remember correctly. And I do believe it is going to storm."

He was being unusually chipper, which didn't rest easy with Emerald, though she hid it well. The men were too protective of her, and hated Saruman; she knew the second she showed uncertainty they would be whisking her away and there would go her connection with the dark wizard.

So she simply nodded, "Yes, tired, and outrageously thirsty, if you don't mind."

"Of course, of course. Those deserts _are_ uninhabitable, aren't they? Well, let us get you to your rooms. I'm afraid," he frowned, turning to the men in her company, "that you must all take rooms in this outer ring."

Emerald almost sighed with relief, "Oh, that's all right." She certainly wouldn't mind _not_ being in the shadowy tower with its sharp angles and cold stone and metal.

Saruman shook his head, "Not you, my lady. You are welcome in my tower, of course. Only . . . security has changed, you see." Here he gave her a sharp look that she knew she was meant to take something from. They were still conspiring together, after all. All she could gather was that there were things taking place in the tower that he didn't want her brothers knowing about.

Again, showing no hesitancy, she nodded, "All right." The stiffness was evident in her company, and she didn't miss the heavy, frantic looks they sent her, but what was to be done? She couldn't very well stamp her foot and argue, not when Saruman already seemed slightly put out with her for being gone so long. So she shrugged and followed Saruman, casting occasional glances over her shoulder as servants led the men along the outer ring to guestrooms located there. She had forgotten Isengard once used to be a large, busy fortress same as any other. Saruman kept many servants, but aside from that he lived alone, and she had never been into the outer ring herself.

As they walked, he explained things to her, pointing at the dozens of shafts to the underground caverns while he extolled his accomplishments during her absence. The armies were multiplying beautifully, and even as they strolled down the pillar-lined road to the front door of Orthanc, Uruk-hai and snarling orcs lumbered around amid the smoke vents.

Emerald frowned, "I do wish you hadn't cut down all the trees, though. You had lovely gardens."

"When the war is over, my lady, I shall give you all the gardens you could wish for. But in these dark times, sacrifices must be made. The land and firewood was needed."

"Well of course I defer to your judgment on it, it simply makes me sad." He continued to explain things to her about numbers and war tactics, seeming to want to hear himself talk as much as she wanted to listen to herself think. So he rambled and she pondered, thinking back to the night before, and the decision she had made that she already knew was going to cause problems.

Beven was coming closer to figuring out the mystery language. How he had managed to do so was baffling to Emerald: how could one teach themselves to read an entire language using only a few translated lines? He had gladly accepted the challenge, however, and even laughed that it looked like Ivorwen had left him these four lines to give him a head start. And as of the night before, he had finally begun to unravel the meaning behind her looped and graceful characters. Articles and verbs were becoming clear, however non-Quenyan nouns were still baffling to him. This other language, as was common with_ any_ language, had taken Quenyan names for some people and places, but had its own names for others, and so while he knew Hithaeglir were the Misty Mountains, he hadn't the faintest idea what Gorowath was.

Three words, though, stood out form the foreign characters: "Maglor," "Maedhros," and "graves." With this limited information in mind, Emerald had decided it best that Saruman _not_ receive this artifact, consequences be damned. Hopefully if she didn't mention it, he would be none the wiser, but she had left the artifact and journals with Beven's things, just to be on the safe side. Should either contain information about the final resting places of either of those who were last seen with the Silmarils . . . well, Saruman could build this army of his, but she certainly didn't want to deliver the location of such valuable items as the Silmarils into his hands. Anyway, perhaps Beven having his own room in the outer ring would give him the privacy to continue his decoding work unwatched; she wouldn't have felt safe with him drawing out the papers right beneath the wizard's nose.

"Welcome back," a servant growled at her, shaking her from her thoughts. Perhaps he smiled at her; it was difficult to guess the meaning behind the grimace. She just smiled uncomfortably back and followed Saruman up the steps, no longer winded at what by this point felt like such a short distance. Any last babyfat clinging to her young frame when she had set out from Imladris so long ago had been lost somewhere along the way, and she wasn't sure quite how she felt about her new figure. Mother would be appalled, of course, because it was most unladylike. Women of rank were supposed to be faire, delicate, and either thin or slightly plump, most certainly not tanned, freckled, and most certainly not muscular.

Amused that such innocent thoughts should enter her head as she set foot into such a dank fortress, Emerald responded vaguely to something Saruman had said and let herself be led through the narrow hallways to her old bedroom. Here she was left to her own devices for quite some time, the only interruption being when her bags were delivered a short time later. She puttered around, bathing in the attached washroom, changing into a fresh outfit that had been placed in the wardrobe specifically for her – the correctness of the measurements bothered her, but this was dispelled by amusement at the image of an orc with a needle and thread going at pale blue velvet– and watched the storm roll in. The cool breeze was welcome as it rushed into her room; her eyes followed the line of rain as it drew near, only to stop just outside the outer ring. Even the rain didn't wish to come near such a vile place! Or perhaps Saruman had manipulated the weather to keep it out. After all, too much water washing down those open shafts to his underground uruk-birthing centers would probably cause damage and mayhem . . . Emerald made a mental note.

Saruman called her down for supper, which passed in an uncomfortable silence. He ate nothing, simply sipping wine and watching as she inhaled the fresh roasted pork and steamed vegetables. Once she had finished, and turned down another proffered glass of wine, Saruman rose and motioned for her to follow him. She did so, used to their private talks in his study.

However, it was not to his study he led her. Instead, they passed into the room she remembered from her childhood, where he had appeared and disappeared without Alagedh ever knowing from his post at the doorway.

"Do you remember this object?" he asked her, motioning to the cloth-covered pillar. She nodded, her eyes flitting between the two. "A palantir. Do you remember what I said to you about it?"

She answered hesitantly, "There are only a few still accounted for. I know Sauron has one."

"Yes," he nodded. "As do my good friends in the East, Alatar and Pallandro. It is how we keep in touch, you see, when matters are too private to trust scouts with – or guests." He did not look at Emerald as he said this, but her heart froze. There was no mistaking in the steady pace of his voice that he knew all, that her number was up.

Saruman pulled the cloth away, exposing the iridescent seeing stone to the room. Instantly Emerald found herself in the company of Saruman, Alatar, and Pallandro, as well as a faint awareness in the back of her mind that Sauron, too, was casually listening to this all, perhaps the way a king might listen to the squabbles of his palace servants.

"Who has the other stones?" she asked, curiosity momentarily overtaking her fear. Who else could hear her scream? Was there any good person with a palantir that might come to her rescue?

No. No one could come to a secret-keeper's rescue.

Instead of answering, Saruman turned to her and pressed, "Where is the paper they sent with you?" Should she tell them she had lost it? That she had destroyed it? Surely Saruman had already searched all their things. Did Beven know? If so, it would explain why Saruman did not already have it.

With a strength and bravery – or perhaps outright foolishness – Emerald retorted, "I destroyed it."

"And why would you do such a thing? A messenger is meant—"

"It was information that no one should have."

"Ah, Ivorwen found them, then, did she?" Saruman mused, his eyes lighting up. "They are still to be found. Tell me where they are." Emerald mutely shook her head, instinctively grabbing hold of her skirts as he stepped closer. She might need to run . . . but where could she possibly run?

Seeing her anxiety, Saruman's voice softened and he held his hand out to her, gently reminding, "You had better not disobey me, child. You must tell me all you know; it is our agreement. Now tell me what the artifact said and I will lessen your punishment for betraying me."

To that, Emerald insisted, "I never betrayed you! If I had betrayed you, I wouldn't have come back, would I?"

Coincidentally, this moment caused a memory to dawn on Emerald, random and yet useful. As a little girl, when she wanted something from Hergest that he didn't want to give her, she would point out that Tegryn would _take_ it from him, and wouldn't she be the less harmful wielder of such item?

Changing her tactic as Saruman had just done, she wheedled, "Do you really think Sauron would have let you keep the Silmarils for yourself had you found them?"

"He and I are a team," Saruman pointed out, his grin widening.

"Are you? Perhaps until one of you has the Silmarils. Do you really think he will keep your services when you have something that he wants? You will deliver to him an army and the Silmarils, and then become to him nothing more than a nuisance or, at worst, a threat to his power. He will not keep you around. Or do _you _think," she continued, this time looking at the palantir, "that Saruman will remain loyal to you when he commands your armies and the Silmarils? Why serve the lord of Middle Earth when you can _be_ the lord of Middle Earth?"

The thought of talking to the dark lord through a stone felt absurd, and Emerald had really meant her accusation as show for Saruman, to remind him that if a little girl could read his ulterior motives, surely the dark lord had figured them out as well. But the ensuing roar that seemed to emanate from the very stone walls surrounding them made even Saruman glance around with alarm. He quickly recovered and then gone was any pretense of gentleness towards Emerald. His sharp features took on an even darker glare as his entire body seemed to swell with fury.

"You!" he bellowed, one long, gnarled finger jabbing in her direction9[[. "How dare you question my loyalty? Take her!" This order was tossed to a couple snarling orcs close at hand who, even with Emerald thrashing and screaming for all she was worth, had little trouble in hauling her away. Up a strairway she went with them, eventually falling silent once they were on the stairs. Perhaps she could lull them into trusting her pacifism and then . . . but just as she prepared to lash out and run down the stairs, a monstrous Uruk-hai appeared behind them, urging them to go faster and effectively blocking off the entire stairwell.

"Master wants you to hurry," he growled, "and go retrieve the scrawny little blond one. He has some talents Master thinks might be useful."

_Hergest!_

Emerald took to thrashing again for all she was worth, shrieking at them, "Leave my brother alone! He's not a part of this!" They cared little for what she had to say though, and instead continued herding her upwards until there was nowhere else to go. Without even understanding how she had gotten there, Emerald found herself on the very tiptop of Orthanc, nothing separating her from the long, fatal fall to the ground except four sharp and narrow spikes at the quarters.

Terrified of the fall, she stretched out on her stomach and slithered to the edge. No, there was no way to climb down, of course. With a bit of searching, she found the front gates and watched as the orcs pulled Hergest from his room and dragged him toward the tower. She could see the rest of her brothers banging against their windows, the shudders of which swung open to reveal bars. Uruk-hai stationed themselves between the doors.

What could she do? Nothing. She had walked her brothers straight into a trap, and here she was, stranded and entirely helpless. Wriggling her way back to the center of the circle, Emerald curled into the tightest ball she could, and cried.

* * *

_Cliffie much? :p_


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: I know, my dear readers, long time no see. There was that whole robbery debacle, and then an unending series of work, being behind in school, being sick, then the holidays, and so on. And seeing as I'm now entering my last semester of college, I will be one busy little bee until May 17th. However, sometimes I function better under stress, and now that I've finally found my muse again (this is the first thing I've written since I was robbed in October) I'm hoping to keep plugging away at my stories. So here's my first update back! Thanks for sticking with me!_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

After her cry, after a fitful nap of exhaustion, and after lying on her back, staring blankly at the sky, Emerald found herself bored, frustrated, and tired. Stars glittered idly in the hole in the clouds above Orthanc, but all around the storm raged, thunder shaking the very bones of the tower and lightening erupting so close Emerald thought she might reach out and touch it. Yet despite her location on the very top of a stone and metal tower, though occasionally the thunder confused her heartbeat into jumping ahead, she couldn't find it in herself to be scared. She didn't feel as though there were strength left in her for anything.

That is, until her visitor. Early in the morning, only just after a watery sun had peeked momentarily through the dense clouds in the east, a character appeared behind her just as mysteriously as her own entrance to the top.

Short, round, greasy -- if not for his unnatural paleness, Emerald would have mistaken him for an orc. There was no color to him, only the black of his clothing and hair, the white of his skin and lips. His beady eyes were fixated on her and for a moment Emerald was sure her time had come.

"Well, well, if this isn't my master's enchantress."

Emerald pulled herself up and found her eyes several inches above his as he hunched before her, his breathing audible and ugly.

"What are you?" she asked, hoping to look disdainful.

He laughed harshly, "What . . . what? Who! I am Grima, Wormtongue they call me, loyal servant of my master, bender of wills and slayer of traitors."

"You don't look strong enough to slay anyone," she mused. Where all this verbal strength was coming from, she wasn't sure, but she also found it hard to feel at all intimidated by this nasty little man. And it felt good to vent her anger through words. What did she have to lose?

He hissed and then demanded, "You'll have to tell me what the artifact said. I've been sent here to get the information from you, and get it from you I shall, no matter how long it takes."

"You mean you aren't just going to slay me?"

He didn't seem to understand that she was making fun of him and argued, "Not yet. You see, you know things, you are still of use to us. Unfortunately, alas, I am so heartstricken to inform you, your brothers are not. Today you will suffer, but tomorrow, if we do not have what we want, I am afraid one of your brothers will suffer, and again the next day, and every day until you understand."

She had expected this threat. Of course her brothers would be used as leverage, and she only wished now she had been clever enough to think of some way to save them before. She should never have brought them here. But now, to hear it voiced by this disgusting little man, she was filled only with rage.

"Get away!" she yelled, suddenly flying at him, a terrifying mess of drenched curls and shredded skirts. Her voice echoed in the empty spaces around them and down into the valley as she yelled, and Grima was wise enough to frantically step backward.

"You cannot hurt me!" he insisted.

"I will push you over the edge and sing as you fall!" she argued.

He was gone before she could act on her promise.

With a sigh, she leaned back against one of the metal spires. It was strange how, the more time she spent so high up, the less the height bothered her; she was acclimating and wondered if eventually she might not acclimate so much as to just jump off and end it all right then and there.

Twittering pulled her from these darkest of thoughts that she knew she could never actually act upon, and her attention was diverted to a little brown sparrow hopping uncertainly around on the stone floor.

"Sorry, little friend, there won't be any crumbs for you here anytime soon," she sighed, holding out her hand in the hopes he would fly to it and offer her some comfort. He didn't, but he did hop to the hem of her skirt, peck at it a few times, and then perch on the toe of her shoe. "Well, at least you're something alive. Probably the last thing alive I'll ever see. I won't tell them anything that I know; I'll die first. Don't mistake that for bravery, because I'm anything but brave. Only if I'm going to mess everything up, I might as well get _one_ thing right, right?"

The little bird, of course, said nothing, only twitched his head this way and that.

"I just wish I could at least _do_ something if this is it. Take all those uruk-hai and orcs out with me, at least. It wouldn't be hard. That river over there would do it. Just imagine how beautiful that would be, the river pouring in, flooding this entire awful place . . . oh, where are you going?"

Even as she said it, though, the bird flitted off, leaving Emerald once again alone with her thoughts.

The hours meant nothing as Emerald lay curled up, wishing the wind would stop, if only for a couple of minutes to let her get feeling back in her fingers and toes. At least the chill distracted her from her growling stomach. Maybe she napped; she really wasn't sure how at all the time managed to go by.

Just as she was again pondering the possibility of rolling over the edge, the little bird was back, this time with a roll of parchment tied to his foot and a graphite pencil in his beak. Surprised but trying to keep from becoming too hopeful, Emerald carefully pulled the parchment off the patient little bird and read:

"How would I go about letting the river in? -H"

Emerald gave an excited yelp and stood for the first time in several hours. She stared down at the little bird.

"You naughty little thing, pretending you were just innocently sitting there. How did you communicate with him? Oh, but it doesn't matter. Here, let me see the pencil." She roughly sketched Isengard, all of which she could see perfectly from her perch, explaining to the sparrow as she did so, "There used to be a large pool here, when I was a child, though of course Saruman drained it when he decided to destroy everything." She traced a line north, "It was fed by a river from the mountain, which should hit right here. There's a tunnel right beneath that's hardly used. If it were plugged with explosives . . . the dam Saruman built would explode and the waters would come rushing in, as long as the outer rim is destroyed. My mother always said, waters want to go where they want to go and you're a fool if you think you can change them for long." The river and tunnel marked, as well as "explosives?" written beside it, Emerald neatly rolled the paper up and retied it to the birds leg. He was gone instantly.

The wait went much more quickly this time, knowing she had something to look forward to. When at last the bird returned, Emerald was almost ravenous with excitement. To her surprise, the note had been added to not only by Hergest, but Beven as well, who had written some explosive materials and suggested asking Emerald if she knew where any of the ingredients might be found.

"Why, are you carrying notes among us all? You good little bird." She quickly responded and off the sparrow went again.

Though she had hoped for at least one more note -- even simply "all right" or "I'll do my best" would have eased her nerves -- the sparrow did not return. Emerald waited impatiently for him, pacing, singing songs, reciting poetry, anything to make the time pass.

It was only a little before sundown when something caught her attention and broke the monotony. Movement to the northeast!

Emerald moved as near the edge as she dared and stared hard into the forest, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was that was moving. Treetops were shaking in a way that couldn't be a result of the wind, almost as though something were frantically shaking their trunks. The movement seemed to pass from tree to tree, slowly but obviously made by a large creature to be able to knock about the trunks so solidly. Emerald didn't know whether to be worried or hopeful, but she watched with attentive curiosity until falling asleep long after the moon had risen.

Though her sleep was restless and light, partially from a fear of rolling off the edge and not seeing what the new day would bring, Emerald managed to remain mostly asleep until the sun roared to life, its rays darting between the thick gray clouds attempting to block it out.

She rose and stretched, her back popping and her stomach growling to remind her how long it had been since she'd had anything to eat or drink, as if her light-headedness wasn't enough. Her eyes darted across the grounds surrounding her as she surveyed the scene, inspecting if anything had changed during the night. Nothing looked different -- there had certainly been no explosions. Orcs trudged up and down the main walkway while thick smoke belched up from the vents in the ground amid the constant chugging and squealing of gears.

Emerald's eyes then turned toward the forest. The movement continued, slow but steady, except now the movement had drawn close enough for Emerald's sharp vision to see more clearly.

With a gasp and a squeal of delight, Emerald leapt to her feet and cried, "Ents!" For what else could it be? What she had previously thought to be large creatures banging against the trunks now revealed itself to be the very trees themselves, or some of them, picking their way between their immobile brethren. Momentarily hunger and thirst were forgotten and Emerald only felt a warmth in her chest: no matter what should now happen, she had seen Ents, had seen with her own eyes creatures now practically relegated to legend for their lack of sightings. She had heard of the days when Ents roamed the earth, and knew they were now rumored to inhabit the "haunted" Fangorn Forest. But to see so many of them walking towards her, as real as the fingers at the ends of her hands -- it was likely to bring a tear to her eye.

Strangely hopeful for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, Emerald sat cross-legged on the top of Orthanc and watched the last march of the Ents.

It was several hours still until they had reached the outer ring, for Emerald's eyes could see very far. As soon as they attached the outer wall, the armies of Isengard became alerted to their presence. Emerald didn't know quite how no one but herself had noticed several dozen trees lurching from the forest, but of course it was not exactly what one expected to happen.

They easily ripped a hole in the outer ring and stepped solidly, slowly but meaningfully through, and from there their pace picked up. Their gnarled hands reached down to grab any orcs that dared swing at their root-feet; with ancient wooden muscles they ripped apart whatever weapons or equipment were within reach.

And who should be sitting atop the very first Ent into the fray but two little Hobbits, hardly more than ants from this height. Emerald's hand clamped to her mouth as she recognized Pippin and Merry -- she could recognize even the tops of their heads as they yelled and cheered the Ents on, their hands holding tight to the Ent's branchy crown lest they be flung down into the fray.

Eagerly Emerald looked round for the rest of the Fellowship, but they were not to be found. Then she remembered what the book had told her, that the Fellowship had broken. So here were Merry and Pippin, but where were the rest of the Walkers? Merry and Pippin were safe at least--

But were they? It was tragically beautiful, the majestic grace with which the Ents fought, but Emerald soon remembered herself and felt her cheeks flush with worry. How could they hope to win, these few dozen trees, against all the armies hidden below the dead lands of Saruman's home? Even now the Ents were beginning to suffer, once the initial surprise had worn off and the armies were given time to react. Arrows and catapulted stones were flying close to Merry and Pippin, and here and there an Ent would suddenly burst into flames as flying fire caught in its branches. The battle was taking a turn for the worst and Emerald didn't know if she could bear the heartbreak of seeing the Ents, and especially Merry and Pippin, succumb to battle.

Then, just as Emerald's hope was beginning a waver, the tower itself shook and the earth erupted right before her eyes. Pieces of the outer wall were flung sky high only to plummet back down onto the heads of hopelessly confused orcs, and even Emerald hit the deck as shrapnel rained down around her. It was only another minute before a deep rumbling grew into a roar and suddenly the river was gushing its way into Isengard which, when one thought about the design, was rather built like a giant birdbath.

Emerald thought her heart might burst with love and joy as she leapt into the air and clapped her hands. Hergest had done it! He had blown the wall and the river now quickly turned the tides of the battle back in the Ents' favor, streaming down through the vents so that the thick black smoke was replaced with a dense steam and a loud hiss.

From there the battle was quickly finished; Emerald could tell the moment that Saruman had lost, for she heard his yell of rage and indignation reverberate beneath her feat. She cheered and laughed and cried and was altogether beside herself as the Hobbits were let down to take in the situation, and the Ents began rounding up any stray orcs that had survived and were now prisoners.

Exhausted, Emerald sat and waited, watching; though she had done nothing, she felt as though she herself had been down amongst the fighting. Her eyes threatened to close, and possibly did so; she was uncertain how much time had passed when yelling brought her to her feet again.

Hergest had managed to escape the tower, and ran down the stairs, yelling for Merry and Pippin whom he of course knew from Imladris. The Hobbits were happy to see him, and from there the rescues were quick. He ushered them to the cells in the outer ring where the rest of her brothers and Alagedh were held, and the bars were easily pulled back by Ents as old as the stones themselves.

Emerald knew the second they thought of her, or thought at least of where she was. She felt all eyes turn to her, and could feel the concern emanating from her companions', as well as the excitement from the Hobbits who took to waving their arms madly at the Elven girl too high for them to see. She could even faintly hear them, more clearly when they yelled that they would get her down as quickly as possible.

Of course, no one knew how to do so. Even were they to enter the tower itself, and there fight off Saruman and Grima and the small host of orcs with them, it was anybody's guess as to how to actually get atop the tower. Emerald had no ideas herself and so lay down again, for once content to let them figure it out, certain they would find a way.

Hours passed, and while Emerald refused to lose faith in her brothers, she was growing awfully tired of waiting. She stretched out, sat cross-legged, paced, lay on her stomach to watch the goings on so far below. She was just considering napping again -- because what else could she do? -- when a sudden commotion and the distant call of her name snapped her awake.

She slithered to the edge and watched: someone had arrived at the front guardhouse where Merry and Pippin had installed themselves. There were a few mounted guards still on the other side of the wall, but she couldn't recognize their colors, only that they were men. She waited impatiently for a glimpse of whomever's arrival had sent her brothers darting across the swampy yard.

At long last, a head popped out of the door, followed shortly by a tall frame draped in white. Momentarily Emerald thought Saruman had somehow managed to escape and pull this reappearance trick, which would make sense for the commotion.

But suddenly the figure raised his voice and bellowed, "Princess Emerald, do you never cease to cause trouble?" There was a note of humor in the voice that she could easily detect, even from so far away, a voice once familiar but that she had never expected to hear again.

"Mithrandir!" she yelped, too overcome with joy to question it. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she would have jumped from the tower in order to throw her arms around him were the distance a bit shorter to the ground. Dead! But now alive! Though he yelled for her to wait, she no longer felt the time drag by, too busy pacing with a joy she had never thought to feel before.

Mithrandir, still alive! She hadn't killed him after all! Perhaps the book had lied, or perhaps there had been some miracle, but the cleansing of the blood from her hands was a great relief to Emerald. And if Mithrandir was still alive, then everyone could be fine -- nothing was impossible now.

It wasn't much longer until a dark shape against the sky materialized, circling around overhead before swooping gracefully to land with the clicking of talons not far from Emerald. At first she only stared, torn between awe and terror of this giant eagle, a golden brown with dark eyes and a white breast, and a good two feet taller than she herself was.

"Don't you want down?" it asked. "Better accept before I change my mind. We eagles do not like to be ridden. It's disgraceful."

"You can talk! But how? I wouldn't think your tongue could formulate--"

"It is now or never, princess," he interrupted, and though his face was stoic Emerald could hear the impatience in his voice. She scrambled onto his back, not sure where to hold but finally settling on the shoulder-ish knobs at the base of his wings.

"Wait, but can you let me run inside? I need to get some things."

If eagles could sigh, this one would have. He didn't answer, and Emerald forgot what she had asked as he suddenly leapt from the platform, spread his great wings and swung a lazy circle in the sky. It was simultaneously liberating and terrifying, and though the wind tried to push her eyes shut she forced them open. It was difficult to breathe with the air rushing past so quickly, and each plunge yanked her heart up into her throat. It was amazing.

It ended almost as quickly as it began; the eagle descended to a balcony and landed again, insisting, "Hurry. I won't wait long."

"Well, the great eagles could use some etiquette lessons," she quipped to him, scurrying inside.

Saruman and Grima were nowhere to be seen, and Emerald quickly picked her way to his study, grabbing whatever papers or books she thought might be of use to her. Her bag rested by the desk, unopened, and she yanked it up, cramming her finds in until it was brimming. She worked quickly, spurred on by the silence. Saruman could easily be watching her without her knowledge and she needed to be gone before he intervened.

Just as she was ready to go, her eyes wandered again to that familiar door at which Alagedh had stood guard so long ago. Glancing quickly around and seeing no one, Emerald tip-toed inside. A second later she was on her way out again, the palantir wrapped snuggly in its cloth covering.

And she had almost made it to the window when a sudden whiny voice snarled, "Just where do you think you're going?" In her surprise, Emerald dropped the palantir, but there was no time to pick it up; she took off in a mad dash for the window where the eagle was prepared to plunge, alerted to the danger by her quick steps.

"Master will not be happy about this!" Grima called after her, but already she had leapt onto the eagles back, scrambling to find her hold again with the bag pressed between herself and the eagle's feathery back.

"I don't care!" she yelled back at him, childishly wanting the last word.

Grima apparently wanted it too, however, for he picked up the palantir she had dropped and lobbed it out the window after her, yelling, "You dropped this, you little brat!"

As it sailed through the air, a voice roared in anger again, and Emerald couldn't tell whether it was Sauron or Saruman. The eagle descended in a slow spiral, lower and lower above the group waiting for her below.

"There is nowhere for me to land; you must jump," the eagle informed her. Perhaps he was surprised by the ease with which she agreed.

"Okay. Thank you for your help!" She let go as she said it and slid off his back, falling only a few feet before landing in the shallow water. It wasn't nearly enough impact to hurt her, though with her arms occupied with her bag she fell to her knees and was instantly surrounded.

"You're all right!" Hergest cried, reaching her first and grabbing her around the waist to pull her to her feet. She thrust the bag at Beven and dove first for the two hobbits, squishing them together in her arms.

"Merry! Pippin! I saw you two riding that Ent like it was just another horseride through the Shire!" They laughed and cheered, but stepped aside as Emerald's attention was then thrust upon Mithrandir. She tossed her arms around him, quite startling the old wizard who then patted her back comfortingly.

"I thought you were dead!"

"Ah, yes, well, dear girl, there were just too many things still to be done for me to stay dead. But come, you look like you could use a warm drink and a good meal."

She nodded emphatically, "I haven't had anything to eat or drink since I got put up there. It was quite cold."

"I've spent some time up there myself," Mithrandir admitted, gently turning her and urging her towards the guardhouse. A few Ents stood around and she wanted so badly to skip up to one and run her hands over its bark and strike up a conversation, but she was now beginning to feel the dent in her health that hunger and thirst had left. They weren't going anywhere fast, so she agreed to eat and rest first, accepting Mithrandir's arm when he offered it.

Another arm was offered on her other side, and Emerald looked up with surprise into the concerned smile of Legolas.

* * *

_Agh, what we've all been waiting for. Am I right? Of course I am. :)_


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: I must admit, my heart fluttered when I reread the end of the last chapter. I hope everyone is excited Legolas is back in the picture. He's not back for good, but he'll be here for a few chapters. Anyway, this was actually kind of stressful to write, because I really had to think about how Emerald and Legolas would be around each other after so much has transpired while they're apart . . . I hope I got it right. If not . . . shoot. Regardless, enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Ten**_  
_

The roof of the guardhouse was packed with everyone crammed together for a meal, which was second in priority only to seeing that Emerald was all right. Other than an alarming amount of bruises and being severely dehydrated and half-starved, though, Emerald insisted she felt find and waved away all attempts to inspect her. Only Hergest was allowed to touch her arm out of curiosity, to see if the fingerprint bruises would disappear beneath his palm.

"Nothing," he sighed. "Looks like I'm no good after all."

"We just don't know how to work with it yet," Emerald assured him, patting his hand. As her fingers touched his skin, the scrape on her hand disappeared, which she pointed out with a laugh.

Tegryn snorted, "Your healing is as unexplainable as your emotions . . ."

"What is this?" Mithrandir asked, Legolas and Aragorn looking on with equal curiosity while Gimli tried to surreptitiously stare without it being obvious he was doing so.

"While we were visiting the Blue Wizards, Hergest starting demonstrating the powers of a healer," Beven explained while Hergest took to putting his hands on any visible wounds or raw skin of Emerald's, with varying results. "He healed a very serious chemical wound on Tegryn, and then sometimes sunburns or chapped lips or scrapes. We can't figure out what caused it in him, or even how he can control it now."

Mithrandir eyed Hergest closely, as though reading what was written in the Elf's brain and searching for some changed coding, "Interesting. While visiting the Blue Wizards, you say? You've had quite a trip since last we met, or so it sounds. Have any others of you demonstrated new talents?" When no one said they had, he suggested, "I believe Lady Galadriel could help you significantly with your new talent, Hergest, and Lord Elrond, too." This got the gears in Emerald's mind turning, but for the time being she said nothing, just devoured food and drink until her stomach felt bloated and listened with voracious curiosity to the questions her brothers asked.

In this way, she began to learn of the voyages of everyone since their last meeting, about Mithrandir's battle with the balrog, about the battle at Amon Hen and how Boromir fell there, Merry and Pippin were captured, and Frodo and Sam set off for Mordor alone. There would always be still more to tell, for the battle of Helm's Deep had only been mentioned, and Emerald's journey had hardly been touched on at all as the freed-prisoners were too busy recovering their strength to speak much.

"Oh, Frodo," Emerald sighed. "He's so innocent to be expected to do so much."

"I believe the same could be said for you, Princess," Legolas pointed out, the first time he'd spoken since she had seen him. He'd been silent, but Emerald had felt his eyes constantly on her from where he leaned against the wall across the room, and she'd be a liar if she denied her giddiness at seeing him. She was thrilled to see the Hobbits and Aragorn and Mithrandir and even grumpy Gimli, but there was an embarrassed part of her that wished everyone would just leave she and Legolas alone so she could talk to _him_. When she'd taken his arm, it had surprised her how much she wanted to throw her arms around him as she had done with Mithrandir and the Hobbits, but also confused her why she felt it would be too inappropriate. Inappropriate had never really bothered her before.

Her yawn after the Hobbits finished detailing their voyage with the Uruks and then the Ents encouraged Aragorn to suggest, "It appears the little princess is exhausted. Where are you headed now, Lady Emerald? What are your plans?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "To sleep, first, and then to eat again. And then . . . I don't honestly know yet." Her eyes intercepted Beven's at her bag, which rested in the corner with his. He was smiling, obviously aware of something she didn't know, but also knew better than to speak about it in front of everyone.

"We must leave early in the morning that we can meet with King Theoden in Dunharrow, as we had already agreed, and from there we move to Gondor," Aragorn explained. "It would put us all at ease if you joined us at Dunharrow to recover your strength, so that we know we parted with you back on your feet. I wouldn't want you to go to Gondor with us, or be any nearer Mordor than you must . . . though you seem to choose exactly the opposite of what those who care would have you do."

"Why do I know the name of Dunharrow?" she asked instead of answering, turning to Beven who could always answer for her.

It was Alagedh, though, who explained, "Perhaps Lord Aragorn means to walk the Paths of the Dead?" Though this meant little to most present, those who were familiar gave him surprised and suspicious looks, while the rest only sensed that this meant something important and possibly terrifying.

Aragorn nodded, "That is the road, but only for myself. There will be many separations in Dunharrow--"

"Can I decide in the morning? I have some things to think over," Emerald interjected, feeling that Aragorn deserved as much privacy for his decisions as she did for hers. She shouldn't have said anything in the first place and felt bad that she had.

She was assured that she could, and quickly after that Beven asked, "Emmy, would you like to take a walk with me?"

"Lady, you should rest," Alagedh argued, putting a concerned hand on her arm.

She patted his hand and insisted, "I'm fine, Alagedh, and there's no trouble left here for me to get into. I promise not to go wandering through Orthanc lest I drown. We won't go far." Helplessly, he let her go, and she accepted Beven's arm and strolled from the guardhouse under the watchful eyes of Mithrandir and Aragorn both.

Knowing curious ears with strong hearing were at hand, and unsure how much Emerald might want anyone to know, Beven led her a great distance along the outside of the ring of Isengard before pressing with a smile, "Guess what."

"What."

"While in our rooms, we were left to our own devices, so I had quite a lot of uninterrupted time to continue working on the artifact and journals," Beven explained. "And I daresay I've got the language down quite firmly now."

Emerald grabbed his other arm to face him and gave an excited yelp, "You have! Does that mean you--"

He pulled the artifact out of his bag and translated, "In my research and interview, I have discovered, and now leave written for she that might follow me in my search, the final locations of the two Silmarils which were captured by those sons of Fëanor, Maedhros and tragic Maglor. It is known that after these brothers, in fulfillment of their ill-fated oath, captured these two Silmarils from the Valar, who are desperate in wanting them that the Silmarils and world might live to eternity, they were driven to madness. Maedhros, having sought glory and found it not to his liking, tossed himself into the a fissure. Maglor, who had never wanted this responsibility in the first place, threw his into the sea. The locations of these events previously unknown, I have searched and thought and prayed and believe in full that I am right. Legend says that Maglor still walks the edges of our world, or else that he has sailed West, and though I doubt this to be true, the legend can be traced back, and no further than, the sea-side city of Dol Amroth. I believe that rather than the sea, into which legend states Maglor tossed the gem, that he instead has lost it in the Bay of Belfalas, so that none might search and find it. Where in the Bay of Belfalas, I know not, but perhaps the Valar are there waiting, ready to guide she who might come. As for the fissure in which Maglor leapt with the final Silmaril, I am certain that this fissure stands in none other than the dark lands of Mordor, the very same fire which was then given the power to create the One Ring. I have no explanation as to why Sauron has never happened upon it, other than that perhaps it is melted into nothing. Were this true, it would have left some marker, I believe, of its destruction. May the Valar guide you."

Emerald gaped open-mouthed for some time before nearly screaming, "Beven, you did it!" He laughed and shrugged modestly. "But do you think she's right? Oh, but there's only one way to know. Oh, oh, oh, I don't even know what to say. Could it happen? Could we actually retrieve the last two Silmarils?"

Beven suddenly grabbed her arm and, peering from where they had walked, whispered, "Someone is coming." Emerald too listened, but then smiled and shook her head.

"It is only Legolas. Don't be concerned. Only be happy that now we know our destination, that we must head to Dol Amroth and there search."

"It puts my heart at ease to know you don't intend to head straight for Mordor, though I suppose you mean to go there next?" Beven pried, his smile suddenly traded in for absolute concern.

"Don't think so far ahead," she insisted, patting his shoulder. "It'll only depress you. After all, either we shall win the war and the black lands will be safer, or else we shall lose and there will no use for the Silmails anyway. So let us just hope that the war is won by then and that I can prance safely into Mordor."

Legolas was within speaking distance now and asked, "Tell me, Princess, do you purposely say things simply to instill fear in the hearts of those around you? Or are you truly driven by a reckless carelessness and absolute disregard for the opinions and affections of others towards yourself?" Emerald smiled and shook her head. She was suddenly feeling quite exhausted, but the prospect of time with Legolas prevented her from admitting this, so when Beven suggested heading back and Legolas offered to accompany her if she would stay out a few minutes longer, she chose the latter.

At first, as Beven walked off, Legolas and Emerald just stood awkwardly near each other, sometimes looking at each other but then looking quickly away. The discomfort was palpable and Emerald couldn't put her finger on just why it was that way. She hadn't felt strange like this around Legolas in Imladris, so why should time apart create it?

"I'm glad you're okay," she finally ventured. "I . . . I mean, I knew there were bad things happening, and I'm glad you're all right. Poor Boromir, though."

Legolas nodded "He died valiantly defending the Hobbits."

"But they still got caught, so you see how far valiance will take you," she sighed. Then, thinking of him for the first time in quite a while, she mused, "I wonder what has become of Gildas?" Legolas didn't seem to know what to say, and they fell into another awkward silence until she admitted, "I'm actually quite tired. Do you mind if I sit?"

"Of course! Princess, I'm sorry, we should return now so that you may rest--"

"Don't fuss, Legolas, I'm fine. I just want to sit for a few minutes," she insisted, but he fussed regardless, taking her arm and leading her to a piece of the collapsed wall where she could sit. "It's been such an exciting day, between Ent-wars and eagle-riding and--"

"Are you really aiming to go into Mordor?" he interrupted her.

She laughed, saw that he was _not_ laughing, and assured him, "Not right now, no. It might be necessary eventually--"

"You cannot mean that." He sat down beside her, and his entire body radiated anxiety. "It will never be safe enough for you to go into Mordor. I don't even want you going with us to Dunharrow, or any closer at all to Gondor and the war--"

"But that's where you're going," she pointed out. "_You're_ going to war."

"_I_ am a warrior."

"Warriors still die!" He had nothing to say, and she didn't, either. This was a dangerous world and everyone was threatened with death. Instead, after a few minutes for the peace to return, she offered, "I'm not going there now, though. Or to Gondor. I'm going to the sea--"

"To Grey Havens?"

Emerald shook her head, "No, to Dol Amroth."

"Why?"

"A treasure hunting expedition," she answered vaguely.

Again they slipped into silence until Legolas commented, "You are very different."

"Me?"

"Yes." His face flitted back and forth between a smile and a frown as frequently as his eyes darted between her and the pond of Orthanc. "You seem . . . older. Sadder. Calmer. I worry that you will survive the war, yet not."

What was Emerald to say to that? _Feeling personally responsible for the deaths of all who die takes its toll?_ _My brothers may follow me to their deaths? I thought I was going to die on top of that tower? _

Instead, she frowned, "I'm sorry. A lot has happened and will happen and might not ever happen and I'm just tired." She sighed and gave Legolas the dreariest look. "I doubt myself all the time, and I'm just so tired."

He looked at her again in silence, this time not taking his eyes away, and it was some time before he pleaded, "Won't you sail West?"

"No, and every time you ask it, Mordor moves higher up on my travel list."

"Well some things are still the same," he muttered, which made her laugh and relax a bit. She didn't like to think that she was different. She didn't _feel_ different, except maybe smaller and more lost than ever.

"Anyway, you're different, too. You haven't smiled a single time since you saw me. Maybe it's not me that's different, but you just aren't so easily amused anymore. I've only grown duller to you. I've lost my charm."

Legolas quickly rose and Emerald almost feared he was going to run off, but he didn't, just stared at the ground with an angry, distracted look.

"Princess," he explained, finally looking at her with the same furrowed brow. "I am sorry that I have not smiled more. You must trust me when I say there is no truth to you losing any of your charm. You have most certainly not grown dull to me. It has just been . . . difficult."

"Well it's been difficult for all of us," Emerald retorted.

"Some of us more than others for reasons more specific than those of others . . ."

Emerald sighed and stood, "I'm afraid you are being horribly vague. I believe we should head back anyway and--"

He grabbed her arm and said simply, "I have only been very worried."

"About?" He said nothing, just continued to hold onto her arm for a long pause. Emerald felt a hiccup in her chest and the blood rushed to her ears. "Oh, about me?"

"It has just been very nerve-wracking to know that you are gallivanting around in the middle of a war," Legolas quickly explained, trying to be lighter but pulling his hand back and looking at the ground when she didn't laugh. "And I was right to worry, because what little I've been told, it sounds as though you've found trouble wherever you've gone."

"No, I was quite safe at Rada-- oh! That's right!" she suddenly cried, her face lighting up with a smile that surprised Legolas. "Radaghast made me promise to tell you that-- speaking of which!" She gave him a hard shove on the arm that surprised him further still. "You did not tell me you are the son of a king!"

Finally Legolas smiled, then laughed, and demanded, "What does that matter, Princess?"

"Because if you are a prince, you most certainly do not need to refer to me as 'Princess.' You are my equal."

"I do not know that anyone on this earth is your equal," he retorted. Emerald pouted, assuming he teased, and gave him a glare. "But that besides, how is it that you came to know this? It's not exactly something that I am proud of, and most certainly not something that most know."

Emerald grinned, "A certain brown wizard told me."

"You've met him, have you? He's a bit of a loose arrow."

"He's quite the free spirit, if that's what you mean," Emerald agreed. "We stayed with him at his house for a while."

"You did! Then you were so near my home, actually in the woods of my family."

"Yes. He wanted me to make sure I told you that he took me to Dol Goldur."

Legolas immediately gave her a stern look and insisted, "He did not."

"I wanted to go, and so he took me. He said you would probably trust that I was safe with him, just as I am safe with my brothers and Alagedh, but that you would be quite furious with him. Though if you have been so worried about me, then you must not trust my brothers so much as you say."

"Princess, I tell you the truth, that I do not even trust myself with your safekeeping. I fear you would foil even the most protective guardian, if only to flout the concern with which they tell you _not_ to go someplace."

She laughed, "Yes, Alagedh's quite a protective guard and I have foiled him more than he will admit!" When he offered his arm, she accepted, and they began walking back to the guardhouse.

"I had asked the Lady Galadriel about you," he admitted.

"Did you? And what did she say? I met her once when I was very small and I just remember being horribly frightened by her. She's quite domineering."

Legolas laughed, "Don't let Gimli hear you say that! I'm afraid Gimli is now heartsick for the Elvish queen, and -- don't tell him I said this -- but I fear his love may not be quite reciprocated."

"Come, _Prince_! Unrequited love is nothing to laugh about," Emerald insisted, giving him a pointed look. "I believe it is the second saddest thing that can befall someone in love, preceded only by the loss of a requited love to death. But come, what did Galadriel say about me? What did you ask?"

"She said that I would see you again before your task was completed."

"Only once?"

Legolas' face fell, "I hadn't thought of that. She didn't say _only_."

"Oh! Guess what! I was practicing archery with those pointers you gave me, and I've actually become quite good. Not _great_, but I shot a few things that I was actually trying to shoot."

Legolas laughed again and teased, "The subject has changed, has it? Well I'm sure your brothers were thrilled."

"Alagedh and Beven seemed glad of it if it means I'll run up a tree and shoot from there if we ever get in trouble," she responded.

It was with a thoughtful look that he mused, "Alagedh seems very fond of you."

"Oh, I daresay he is," Emerald nodded. "He's served my family since before I was born. He's a very dear friend."

"Is that so?" he asked, though it seemed rhetorical and Legolas' eyes were instead scanning the sky disinterestedly.

"I think I will come with you to Dunharrow," she announced to get his attention after they had walked a bit further and were now almost back to the guardhouse. It worked and he gave her a questioning smile. "I told you I need to go to Dol Amroth. It's on the other side of the mountains."

Legolas pointed out, "But you would still need to get to the other side of the mountains."

"Yes, I suppose I shall have to find a passage _through_ the mountains . . ." she mused, tapping her chin dramatically. Clearly she meant the Paths of the Dead, but they had reached the guardhouse and she dropped his arm to enter before he could argue against it. Besides, it would be pointless, he knew. What Emerald thought to do, she did.

Instead, he grumbled, "You are going to be the death of me."

* * *

Emerald slept hard to make up for the restless nights she had been enduring. For the first time in ages, she felt truly safe, though Saruman paced not far from her in captivity. Still, there were not only her brothers near at hand, but also Mithrandir, Aragorn, and Legolas. She slept soundly in one of the drained rooms of the outer ring, the Hobbits and Gimli in cots nearby.

She struggled to rise in the morning, but did so and ate her breakfast sitting atop the roof with Tegryn, Hergest, and the Hobbits while Treebeard told her some about Ents, with Pippin and Merry filling in the blanks left by his slow words and lengthy sentences. He was even kind enough to let her climb atop him and run her fingers over his bark, which she insisted was the nicest bark she had ever laid hands on.

"And I'm quite the tree-climber," she assured him, which seemed to amuse Treebeard to no end.

It was only shortly after sunrise that it was announced they must be on their way, and Emerald waved goodbye to the Ents without having said anything about her possible search for the Entwives, though she had shrewdly inquired if they knew to where they had gone. They, of course, did not. It was with a tinge of sadness she turned her back to Treebeard. She really did like the Ents, and it would have been lovely to stay with them for some time, though they spoke too slowly for her and she too quickly for them.

There were now more riders than horses, though Emerald's company's horses had been retrieved from the stables unharmed, much to their relief.

Seeing Legolas mounted, Gimli perched behind him, Emerald sidled up beside them as the party began to move and teased, "Why Gimli! I never would have thought you'd concede to riding behind an _Elf_."

"Can we lose her at the first cliff?" Gimli asked Legolas, which earned him an elbow in the ribs but only made Emerald laugh.

"Come now, Master Gimli," she insisted. "You have a best friend for an elf, so I hear, and a love for an elf, so surely there is room in your heart for me."

He grumbled, "What have you been saying about me?" to Legolas but retorted to Emerald, "Nope, sorry, no room left in here for another Elfling."

"Legolas, you hear how your friend speaks to me?" she demanded. "He treats me as though I'm no more worthy of his affections than an orcling!"

Gimli laughed, "Aye, little PrincessO. Alas, I'll not ask Legolas to have my side and place me first in any of our arguments. A dwarf is not so stupid that he doesn't know who an Elf will pick first in _this_ competition!" That said, he shut his mouth and refused to say another word, no matter how hard Emerald and Legolas laughed and tried to draw him out.

When that had died down, Emerald said to Legolas, "Well, do you feel less anxious now that you are here to keep an eye on me, too?"

"As long as you do not try to befriend any more oliphaunts," he returned, smiling mischievously. It thrilled Emerald's heart to see him behaving a bit more as he had been in Imladris, but still she pretended to be highly offended at the teasing.

"Ah!" she gasped. "And just who have you been talking to?"

Just ahead of them, Aragorn, who had most likely been listening all along, added, "Although I believe the princess can show us the quickest route down should we encounter any steep inclines."

"Tegryn!" she yelled, turning in her saddle to glare at her brother, who confirmed her suspicion with an innocent, "What?"

Thus it was with high spirits and lighter hearts that the group set out to Dunharrow.


	11. Chapter 11

_Note: Had I really not updated this story in a YEAR? That can't be possible, right? Well the shitstorm that has been my life for the past ten months is falling back in place and now all that remains is to find a job so I don't go broke. Here's an update, though! I'm excited to be working on this story again and have the next chapter started as well. Hurray! :) _

_This is what I call a "business chapter" because I had to cover a bunch of important stuff. I should also mention, for those of you keeping a close eye on the facts, that I decided (apparently) that Theoden and Eomer did not go to Orthanc with the remaining Fellowship. They will all be meeting up at the Hornburg. Also, a few times and dates had to be shifted around, but from the end of this chapter on everything will be lined up as it should be.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**_  
_

Emerald found herself almost forgetting they were in the middle of a war. The sun was warm but not merciless and fluffy white clouds idled across the sky. Emerald drifted throughout the line, finding enjoyable conversation with each member of the party, though Mithrandir was the least talkative of all. With others, though, anxiety was low and banter light.

It was in the early afternoon that the elves in the party noticed the distant sound of hooves. Legolas was the one to mention this to Aragorn, but as there was no immediate sign that the horses were headed in their direction, they continued on, though more cautiously. When at least it became clear that the riders meant to overtake them, the party stopped. Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli and Merry dismounted, drawing weapons. Hergest and Emerald were jostled to the back of the party, which she seemed more upset about than he. When she began to stand on the back of her horse, he grabbed her arm and held her down.

It was disconcerting to be approached like this in broad daylight and everyone held their breaths. As the riders drew closer still, just out of sight around a curve in hills, Aragorn called out to them,

"Halt! Who rides across Rohan in these days?"

"Rohan!" came the response. The riders were now fully in view and came to a stop only a few yards away. The man who had spoken dismounted and held his hand forward in a gesture of peace. Emerald took this as a sign that she could dismount and join the front. She stood behind Gimli and Merry and watched the man approach, his face hidden beneath a heavy black cloak.

"We seek the land of Rohan and have traveled many leagues for it," the man explained. When no one responded, the man continued, pushing his hood back "I am Halbarad Dunedain, Ranger of the North. We seek one Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and have been given word that he is here."

Aragorn surged forward and hugged the man, clearly recognizing him, and laughed, "You have found him. Well met, Halbarad!"

At almost the same time, Emerald spied two familiar rides and cried out, "Elladan! Elrohir! Fancy seeing you here!" She leapt forward and hugged them after they'd gracefully slid from their horses.

"Your mother would have a fit were she to see you right now," Elladan laughed, gingerly picking up the end of her grungy braid and surveying her rumpled, soiled dress.

"Mama! Is she-"

"She's fine. She actually visited Imladris only a short while ago and our father reassured her that you are in good hands. Your father, too, is doing well, though understandably they are anxious for your return home. You might send a message to them," Elrohir encouraged, giving her a brotherly scolding smile. Hergest, Tegryn and Beven had come forward to greet Elrond's sons, as well, while Emerald caught the end of the conversation between Aragorn and Halbarad. The rangers had somehow known Aragorn needed them and come to find him; there were thirty in all plus the sons of Elrond.

"Come then, let's continue. King Theoden will be glad to have you." Just like that, so quickly and effortlessly, the number of their party multipled. The improvement in Aragorn's mood at the arrival of his countrymen was palpable as everyone remounted and continued along the footpath. Emerald would have liked to ride with Elladan and Elrohir, but they had fallen into step with Aragorn and were obviously discussing something important, so instead she fell back to ride alongside the rangers and introduce herself.

Their confusion and amusement at her was also palpable.

As the afternoon bled into the evening, Emerald found herself again riding alongside Mithrandir. This time she managed to get him talking by commenting off-handedly, "I'm only glad you aren't as _foreboding _as those Blue Wizards."

"Ah, yes, what did you think of my absent brethren?" Mithrandir asked, equally as casually.

"They are very convinced that they're gaining power for the greater good, but I can't help but feel they're only wanting to expand their powers for their own good. I think they'll be 'independent,' as they called it, only until they master the arts they're interested in."

"What arts they interested in? I'm afraid it's been such a long time since I spoke with them."

"Since the meeting of the Maiar at Dunharrow? The very Dunharrow we're going to now . . ." Emerald realized, wondering how she could have forgotten already.

If Mithrandir was surprised by her, he no longer showed it, only smiled slightly and confirmed, "Yes, since then, though I saw your Ivorwen more recently than that. Until that meeting she was quite close with Radaghast. I visited you, just a little girl, with Ivorwen and Radaghast before-"

"So I did meet her!" Emerald cried, sitting bolt upright in her saddle. "I thought I might have. She was my governess' daughter. And Ivorwen's daughter was-"

"Yes," Mithrandir interrupted her. Behind them, she could feel Aragorn's eyes on her and so she said no more. Aragorn's heritage wasn't completely common knowledge, she remembered, and it wasn't her secret to tell.

Deciding to change the subject, she returned to his earlier question and replied, "They're interested in teleology, alchemy, things like that." Mithrandir thought this over, nodding as his eyes gazed far into the distance.

Leaning in, as though this would keep his words from reaching the ears of her Elven brothers, he suggested softly, "It sounds to me as though they have only discovered how to enhance or even draw out for the first time the natural talents, rather than to bestow them. How many of your party were touched by or possibly ingested a mysterious substance?"

"Ai, Valar," Emerald sighed dramatically. "I suppose this means Tegryn's stupidity is going to be enhanced."

"Hey!" he called from further back in the line.

"Don't eavesdrop!" she called back. He kicked his horse and raced toward the front of the line. She squealed and took off ahead, mounting a crest without a second thought and tearing down the sloped far side. Not until they got to the bottom did they stop and look across the field before them. Instantly the laughter died and smiles fell from their faces.

How hadn't they noticed the stink until now? A dozen large mounds of burning orc and uruk-hai bodies were scattered across the field, sending a wretch-worthy stench into the sky on thick plumes of smoke. The grass was flattened and caked with dark blood. The field was otherwise cleaned and surprisingly empty for such a large battle to have taken place only days before. At the far side of the field, nestled into the mountains, was the Hornsburg, Helm's Deep, an intimidating and still unconquered fortress.

Hergest paused between them, his eyes following theirs, his face a mixture of wonder and horror. Emerald felt her heart speed up and the color rush to her cheeks. Even Tegryn was wordless, unable to pull his eyes away from the nearest pile of corpses whose faces were frozen in a final pain as their bodies burned.

Legolas pulled his horse to Emerald's left, something of a grin on his fair features. Behind him Gimli was chuckling - chuckling!

The noise caught Emerald off-guard and she twisted to gape at the dwarf, asking, "You laugh?"

"We had a bit of a competition going, me and the lad, over who could kill the most." He shoved Legolas good-naturedly and teased, "I believe I won that one, didn't I now, Master Elf?"

"All right, Gimli," Legolas sighed. "I killed only forty-one to his forty-two -but I maintain the last one was a lucky kill on your part."

Emerald stared. When her eyes began to sting, she looked away and gazed across the battlefield again. The sight made her chest hurt. Here, easily seen, were the dead of the enemy, but how many friends had suffered a similar fate? She could almost imagine the horrible clashing of weapons - almost, but not quite, because she had never seen anything quite like it.

As the first tear rolled down her cheek, Alagedh had already shoved his horse between hers and Legolas'.

"She's never seen a battlefield before," he barked at Legolas and Gimli. "And off you go, bragging about death counts. Come on, Princess." He clicked his tongue for Emerald's horse to follow him as he strode forward. Emerald silently followed, but was unable to not look around as they picked their way across the field. If anyone felt uncomfortable in the wake of Alagedh's scolding, she wasn't aware of it and was secretly appreciative of the interference by her friend.

Great was her relief when they finally entered the stronghold. The entrance was crowded and dirty but didn't reek of death, and so Emerald felt herself relax. They dismounted and Beven offered his arm to his sister. She took it and was given one final glance of the fields before their party moved up through the streets to the central rooms.

King Theoden and Eomer were taking dinner but left the meal without hesitation to greet the returning party and the new arrivals. Without meaning to, the elves of the party stood on one side and the rangers on the other with Merry, Gimli, Mithrandir and Alagedh breaching the middle. It occurred to Emerald that between herself and her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, and Legolas this was quite the gathering of young royal elves. King Theoden seemed to recognize this, or at least recognized the importance of Emerald. He gave a short, stiff bow to her - which was apparently surprising to everyone around because eyebrows raised at his behavior.

"My party is only passing through," she suddenly felt compelled to explain, realizing that she ought to speak for her own group. It was comfortable and easy to relax with Mithrandir and Aragorn at hand and allow them to take the reigns, but it was best she not forget that their parties were only temporarily together. She was still the somewhat absurd leader of their own small fellowship and she ought to act it. She ought to deserve the bow of this king of Rohan.

"We would of course be in your debt if you would allow us to rest a while here and again at your people's camp at Dunharrow."

"We would be honored," came the reply, but not from the king! At his elbow, his nephew Eomer had spoken out of turn. He cast a startled glance at King Theoden, as though surprised by his own voice.

Fortunately, and possibly surprisingly judging by the reactions of the rest in the room, King Theoden laughed, "As charmed rash youth has said before me, your party is welcome so long as you do not hinder our actions. I shall not question your motives or plans and request that you grant me the same favor." Emerald wasn't sure what all the pretense was for since she knew exactly what their plans were, but she thought maybe this was his way of both saving face and washing his hands of whatever business she was involved in. Fair enough.

Before turning his attention to the rangers, Theoden suggested, "Perhaps my nephew would wish to show your party to guest rooms where you might rest for the evening." The slight was obvious, as this was the job of servants, but Eomer didn't seem the least bothered. He motioned for the party to follow him and led the way down two hallways before introducing them to two rooms.

"I'm afraid space is at a premium," he apologized, referring to the small number of rooms.

"That's all right," Emerald assured him. "We're not so entitled that we can't share beds." Tegryn began laughing hysterically, earning scolding glances from several.

"If you'd like to wash up, we'll have more food brought out into the dining room, which is straight down this hall. We look forward to seeing you there, Princess." He bowed slightly, then quickly added, almost embarrased, "And Princes . . . and . . . guard."

"Yeah, yeah," Alaghed grunted, pushing open one of the doors and falling onto the bed.

Tegryn, Hergest and Emerald were shoved into one room, Alagedh and Beven into the other. Emerald was given the washroom first but ordered to hurry. She scrubbed her face and hands until they were pink and raw and tried to smooth out some of the worst wrinkles in her dress. There wasn't much to be done, though, and she emerged from the washroom looking almost as disheveled as when she'd entered it.

While Tegryn took his turn, Emerald pulled the book out. Under so many watchful eyes, she'd hardly been able to glance at it. Now the pages told her very little of immediate interest. Arwen had reforged Isildur's sword and sent it with her brothers - that explained the long wrapped object they'd been carrying. Saruman was unhappy and taking it out on Grima.

On Emerald's page, the only new words were, "That princess certainly is a charmer, isn't she?" She thought of Eomer overstepping his boundaries to welcome her and made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. As if she had any interest in thinking about her effect on a young man right now!

She returned the book to her satchel and tucked this under the bed; Hergest didn't even give her actions a second glance, though he did pat her head lovingly when she threw herself backwards onto the bed. The ring on the chain she still wore around her neck was tossed by the momentum of her fall against her chin.

"Ouch," she pouted. So long had the ring hung about her neck that she generally forgot it was there. Now she pulled it up and looked into the depths. A forest was in view, alive, peaceful. No elves wandered past but a few birds flittered here and there. Emerald closed her eyes to imagine the forests but instead found her mind wandering back to the beaches of home. She then promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Emerald woke during the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed and looking around in a sort of dazed confusion until she got her bearings. Tegryn was passed out on the bed beside her, his arms and legs flung across as much of the space as he could manage. Hergest was sound asleep on a cot that stood against the wall beneath the window. The moonlight entering the room was bright and clear, allowing Emerald to find the lamp by the door and light it.

Taking it by the handle, she stepped into the hall, shutting the door just before her stomach began growling loudly. She hadn't eaten anything since mid-day and now sorely regretted that no one had woken her for supper. Quietly she went to the dining hall but there were only drinking men sitting by the fire and she didn't feel like making herself known to them.

Emerald returned to the entrance room but this was also empty. In a last ditch effort to find food, she decided to venture out and see if she could find a tavern or _something_. Her brothers were going to kill her for wandering off alone but she was so hungry! Pulling the hood of her cloak up and holding it closed in front of her, she stepped out the main doors and had made it down three steps before being spotted.

"Good evening, Princess, but where is it you're headed?" She spun to find Aragorn and Legolas standing to the side of the entrance.

She sighed - caught! - and confessed, "It appears I've slept through supper and am extremely hungry."

"So you're off to fish? Surely a princess wouldn't be venturing off by herself to seek out a tavern, unguarded and at this late hour!" It was Legolas who teased her this time, joining her on the same step.

"Oh, don't make such a fuss, and don't tease me so! I'm hungry enough to faint. If you haven't noticed, I'm somewhat wasting away."

"She does have a point," Legolas told Aragorn. "I spent a half hour talking to a twiggy tree today before I asked why she cut all her hair off and realized by the ensuing silence it couldn't possibly be the princess."

"You're a braver man than I, Legolas, to taunt a famished imp."

"Imp!" Emerald gasped. "And you!" she added, backhanding Legolas in the chest. He had the good grace to pretend like this hurt as he took her hand and tugged her back up the stairs.

With a sigh, Legolas conceded, "Come, I'll show you to the kitchen."

"But if no one is there?"

"Then we shall awake Eomer to cook for you. If he's willing to interrupt the king, I'm sure he won't mind the interruption to his sleep."

"You're in a fine mood tonight," Emerald huffed, pulling her hand away only to rest it in the crook of his elbow. The lamp was unnecessary: she knew Legolas could see quite well in the dark, a skill she'd never needed to develop until recently.

Fortunately, Eomer didn't need to be distubed. In the kitchen, a single maid was wiping down countertops when they entered. She gaped at the pair of them as Legolas asked if there might be any food the princess could have. The maid nodded dumbly and quickly retrieved some fruit, bread and some sort of cold soup.

"Do I just look awful?" Emerald whispered to Legolas. The maid went back to cleaning but continued to glance at them frequently over her shoulder. He gave her a confused look so she elaborated, "She keeps staring."

He gave a low laugh and insisted, "Probably you are the most beautiful thing she has ever seen and doesn't quite know what to do."

"Don't make fun," she sighed, giving him a look as she shoved a rather unladylike chunk of bread into her mouth.

"I wasn't making fun. You're an elf, remember, and a rather beautiful one at that-"

"Especially right now," she snorted. Her frizzy curls were probably making a horrendous halo around her head. She couldn't think about it too much.

"Indeed," he assured her, stealing a couple small berries from her plate. She couldn't understand the smile he gave her and so didn't bother trying. He wandered around the kitchen as she ate, then offered to escort her back to her room if she wished.

"The hobbits and Gimli are in the larger room down that hall. Everyone's sleeping on the floor. Your brothers should be grateful they were under the umbrella of your charms," Legolas explained. Within minutes they reached her room and she turned to say good night and ask him not to mention her late night attempt at flight to her brothers.

Even as Legolas opened his mouth to reply, shouting from down the hall reached their ears. Both abandoned good nights and ran back in the direction they'd come, then down the side hall to the room where their friends slept.

Or had slept. The room was fully awake now. Pippin sat on the floor, his eyes glazed over as Mithrandir roughly asked him demanding questions. Emerald quickly guessed what had happened. The Palantir lay on the floor beneath Mithrandir's cloak, its roundness identifiable even beneath the folds. Pippin was sweating and trembling as he tried to answer Mithrandir's questions. He'd spoken with Sauron directly.

Emerald didn't even know the Palantir had come with them. After Grima had thrown it out the window at her, she'd forgotten all about it. Now she scooped it up from the ground, taking care to keep it fully wrapped in the cloak. Mithrandir noticed but said nothing, just continued his interrogation of Pippin. After only a few minutes of questions, Mithrandir relaxed and announced to the room that Pippin hadn't said anything dangerous. Only now Sauron guessed he was the hobbit with the ring and that possibly he was in league with Saruman, since Suaron thought the Palantir was still in Orthanc.

"Yes, I insinuated to Sauron that Saruman was betraying him," Emerald admitted once Mithrandir had carried Pippin back to his bed. Merry sat by Pippin and patted his back sweetly. The small council now being held consisted of Emerald, Aragorn, Mithrandir, Gimli and Legolas, though a few rangers no doubt listened from around the room.

Mithrandir gave Emerald a startled look and pressed, "You've spoken with Sauron? Through the Palantir?"

"Not directly. The Blue Wizards sent me with a message to Saruman but . . . it contained information that I thought it best Saruman not have. They were communicating through the Palantir the whole time and so I was found out. Sauron was listening in when Saruman confronted me with the Blue Wizards watching. I pointed out that Saruman wouldn't remain loyal to Sauron long . . . I was talking about other powerful items, but I suppose if Sauron thinks he also has the ring . . ."

Mithrandir, to her surprise, smiled, "This is well and good, little one. We have tricked Sauron with your help. He now focuses on Orthanc and away from Frodo. We must use this confusion to our advantage."

"And what about the Palantir?" Legolas pressed. "It can't be safe for the princess to carry it around."

"The Palantir doesn't pose a danger to all. I find myself wondering if this Palantir is from the treasury of Elendil, set in Orthanc for safe-keeping by the Kings of Gondor," Aragorn mused, glancing at the bundle in Emerald's arms.

She understood and, holding it forward, announced, "Then I believe it belongs to you, Lord Aragorn." She even bobbed slightly in a small curtsy, feeling the official hand-off deserved some sort of pomp and circumstance, or as much as could be found in a dormitory in the middle of the night.

"Only be wary, Aragorn," Mithrandir warned. "Do not hasten to give away your identity before it is time. Keep this stone secret that none may accidentally come upon it."

"Of course," Aragorn nodded.

"As for myself, I believe Pippin and I shall leave now and make haste for Minis Tirith this very night. We must not wait for the enemy to untangle the threads. If what Lady Emerald has said is true and Sauron suspects treachery, he will be sending his messengers even now towards Orthanc." That Mithrandir had called her lady instead of princess was not overlooked and Emerald was delighted. It felt nice to be taken seriously, and princesses never were, but a lady was a force to be reckoned with.

Aragorn gathered Pippin up, blanket and all from his bed in the corner and carried him quickly after Mithrandir from the room. Emerald, Legolas, Gimli and Merry followed them down through the streets of the stronghold. So quick was Mithrandir's speed in preparing Shadowfax for departure that almost as soon as they set food in the stables Aragorn was handing Pippin up to Mithrandir.

Emerald quickly stood on her toes to plant a kiss on Pippin's hand and whisper, "Be brave, little hobbit. We shall meet again, I believe in my heart, but not for some tame. Stay safe, Ent Rider!" Pippin gave her a wan smile in return, the most he could muster, and called out for Merry. His dearest friend patted his hand and watched sadly after them as Shadowfax carried them out into the night.

She hadn't realized how quickly her heart had sped up, but now in the quiet stables, with Mithrandir and Pippin suddenly gone form the fort, Emerald felt tired again. The entire episode had taken only ten minutes or so, but the frantic energy made it feel so much longer.

"Someday the peace will last more than a day," she sighed as she followed Aragorn and the rest back through the streets.

Beside her, Merry asked, "Do you really think so?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Yes, I do. Especially if we have so many idiots willing to make a competition out of killing the enemy."

Gimli snorted in amusement as Legolas recalled himself and, with a small gasp at his own forgetfulness, offered, "Princess, I meant to apologize about that. It was not a suitable topic for discussion in front of a lady and though _Gimli _is the one who began it, I should have changed the topic to something more suitable for the senses of-"

"What you just said is much more offensive," she assured him which made even Merry crack a small smile. "As long as you have Gimli there to keep you safe, I suppose the competition is all right."

Legolas huffed, "I only lost by one! And I won the competition before that." Gimli laughed and patted Legolas' back comfortingly, which only made the elf grumble, "Now I have something to prove."

Emerald leaned against him just the slightest bit as they re-entered the central hall, just so that her arm and the back of her hand pressed against his, and insisted, "Just don't go getting yourself killed, is all I ask. You're not exactly dispensable." She was gone before he could figure out how to reply.

Gimli must have said something, or perhaps Aragorn did, but Emerald missed it. She had already rounded the corner with Merry to return to their rooms, leaving the three alone in the entrance hall. Gimli's laughter echoed after them, though, so certainly somebody had something amusing. Emerald always enjoyed amusing things but considered that maybe this once it was better if she didn't know.

She returned to her room and lay awake for some time, worrying about Pippin and Sam and Frodo. There was danger everywhere, but it was easier to have faith in the safety of her friends when they were close by. Eventually she fell asleep and dreamed of the forest.


End file.
